My daughter was born after 24 hours of labor, both of us struggling to bring her in to this world. I posted photos via moblog in 2004 to update a small and friendly community waiting her birth. They read the day I went back to the hospital sick with infection and read my struggles of post partum depression.
A million years ago, it seems. Or, exactly, six.
She’s grown up like this site, in conjunction, both of us changing, growing, learning.
She’s the fun one at school. The welcoming one. The one without a clue anyone would think badly about her.
She’s moody and sometimes aloof. She’s independent and sole-full. She is kind to her brother, taking care of him in ways he flourishes under. She competes with us telling us she loves us more than. More than the biggest tree, more than the shiniest start, more than the longest song.
She is like her mother. She is so very much like her mother that sometimes her mother forgets why she won’t listen.
She draws in abundance: Rainbows and Hearts and Family and Love and Puppies. She is pure and shiny and loving. Knowing her brings back to mind a swirl of quotes from a pre-child life. “The most terrifying day of your life is the day the first one is born. ....Your life, as you know it… is gone. Never to return. But they learn how to walk, and they learn how to talk… and you want to be with them. And they turn out to be the most delightful people you will ever meet in your life.” -Lost in Translation.
To my daughter, one of the most delightful people I have ever met in my life. I love you. Bigger than the Milky Way, Bigger than the Galaxy, Bigger than you know.