On this day twenty-five years ago you pushed your way into the world and captured my heart. In typical fashion, you were in a hurry. So much so that we almost didn’t make it to the hospital in time. Out the window went my birth plan – no epidural; no mixtape of favored songs to soothe us as we labored; no gentle transition for you from in-utero to neonate.
As I was doing my best not to push until the doctor arrived, you took matters into your own hands and made your grand entrance, complete with umbilical cord wrapped around your neck (already accessorizing). Blue, and without even the weakest cry to signify things were okay, I caught a glimpse of your tiny hand as they whisked you to the ICU. Your initial Apgar score was an alarmingly low 3.
But as always, you rallied. Within hours you were in my arms — pink and squalling, and I thanked every God I could think of for keeping you safe from harm.
This became our pattern. You, fearless and flying at the speed of light. Me, your steadfast contrail – following in your wake and worrying that whatever you were doing was too much, too soon.
Together, we made it work.
Which brings us to today – I am in awe of the woman you’ve become. You are a fearless, take-no-prisoners force to be reckoned with, and that is such a good thing. Your beauty and poise are equal to your intelligence and compassion – you, my sweet, are the complete package.
Someday you’ll find a love worthy of yours, and together the two of you will conquer the world, of this I have no doubt. In the meantime, enjoy life. Slow down every once in awhile… relax if you can. Travel. Meet new and interesting people and try out differing viewpoints; let your worldview evolve.
And as your mother (with a front row seat to your evolution) know that I’m always here, unshakable and proud, and filled with more love than you could ever imagine.