And Now She Is Eight...

Dear Little Miss Chatterbox,
I'm about a month behind with posting this but wanted to make sure it got here!

*deep breath*

My first born. The one who made me a mother. The first one to call me "Mama". Could it really have been eight years ago?


I have heard the "horror" stories of your birth from those who were there. It was so bizarre to watch the video that was taken right after you were born because you can sense a bit of panic in the room. And the video looks like the scene of a crime investigation. I was so young and knew near to nothing about giving birth and how it can and should be a beautiful experience. But I think in this situation, ignorance is bliss.
I didn't know that the epidural is what made me nauseous and was the reason why I was throwing up between pushes. I had no idea that the anesthesiologist had given me way too many drugs and that it would result in a spinal headache. Or that I would be so numb that I wouldn't be able to move or push as I should have. I did not see how scary it was when they put that suction cup on your head nor did I even notice the cone shape it left your head in. I didn't know that Grammy left the room and ran into Grandpa's arms to cry. I figured the tears that Daddy cried were tears of joy, not fear. I probably should have known something wasn't right when even the nurse was crying. But she told me she was pregnant and it was just her hormones. I believed her then. Now I don't. I had no idea that your life was in the hands of an incompetent doctor who eventually would never deliver another baby again and start his own business in surgical hair removal. (Much easier, I presume) But you were born on the Feast of the Guardian Angels and I know they were looking after you. I know that your life was really in the hands of God. And I know that when you were placed in my arms, everything was perfect.

You were beautiful and you were mine.

I noticed right away that you had Dad's little ears. I had hoped and prayed that my little girl would have brown curls and I was so excited to see brown hair on your head! The look on your face made me laugh. You were so serious! Your eyes were wide open and you looked around at everything and everyone. I knew we had been given a very intelligent child. Your little fingernails were red and we joked and said it looked like you had nail polish on. And I was so glad to have a little girl.

I didn't want to take my eyes off you. My heart was so full that I wanted to scream with joy. I was so excited with the anticipation of what was to be, my future with you and Dad always by my side, that I wanted to start clapping.

I still get excited when I think of what is to come. I still watch you and applaud and wonder, "What does God have planned for her?"

I know that no matter what you do, it's going to be amazing.

You're a leader. You're a teacher. You're an artist. You have an eye for beauty.
You love to create. You're a story teller.

You have a strong will. You love Jesus and Mary.
You love your family. You can do anything.

I hope to always be an encouragement to you.

I hope I lift you up and never bring you down. I hope I can help you find your dreams and make them a reality. I can't wait.

You're more beautiful every year.
And you'll always be mine. I'm the luckiest person in the world.

Happy Eighth Birthday! I love you.
Love,
Mom