blessed to call her mine

Today is your 6th birthday.  On my birthday a couple of weeks ago, you came bounding into my room.

"Happy Birthday, Mother!  Now it's almost my birthday!"

You are so very much my daughter.  We do love our birthdays, don't we sweet girl?

I'm not sure how it's possible that you are six.  Because I still remember very clearly the day I found out I was expecting you.

It was a Sunday morning in October.  I don't know what made me decide to head to the store so early in the morning but that's exactly what I did.  I put on a yellow Goodwill t-shirt and a pair of jeans.  Walked out of my little apartment, letting the green screen door slam as I left.

I drove down 29th, took a left on Nob Hill (something that's nearly impossible during the work week) and headed to Safeway.  The store was quiet.  I wanted a Sunday paper.  I grabbed one.  But I also grabbed a bag of Double Stuf Oreos...and a pregnancy test.  The Clear Blue Easy Digital test.

I remember reading the digital read out.


Pregnant.


Pregnant.


Shock.


Six years later I'm still in shock that I've been blessed with you.  Shocked and thankful.  If not for you I don't know where I'd be right now.

Thank you, sweet girl, for six years of smiles and laughs.  For the way you're so matter of fact about everything.  Thank you for being sensitive yet strong.  I love that you have the most awesome sense of direction.  And I love that your daddy is your most favorite person on earth.

I think it's hilarious that your idea of problem solving an issues with the neighbor's animals is to shoot them.  I love that just now instead of asking for a piece of bacon, you said, "hey, Mom, can I have some of that pig?"  I have a love/hate relationship with your thumb.  I remind myself you (most likely) won't be going to college with it in your mouth.

You are tall and skinny and the girl who used to run like Phoebe is no longer.  That part makes me a little sad.  You prefer jeans to dresses and dirt over being clean.  You hate to have your hair brushed and more often than not look like a little ragamuffin.  You have the most amazing blue eyes that I could stare at for hours.  Your nose turns up and even though I love it, I'm sure one day you won't.

When I lay you down at night I want to kiss all your freckles but you'd rather I just sing you a song and be on my way.  You make friends at the playground so easily and I find myself envious.  You don't know a stranger.  From the time you were born you've been a morning person and always so happy as soon as you are awake.

There are so many things I love about you.  Mostly I love that you're mine.