I was scrolling through the notes on my iPhone the other day... I often wake up in the middle of the night, characters having told me crazy stories or worked out kinks in their plot lines in my dreams, and type a few notes out on my phone... when I saw a note, dated exactly a year ago yesterday. It read:
10:55
11:11
11:26
11:41
These are numbers, times more specifically, I'll never forget. They were the first of what would become numerous, rather painful announcements that my little Abree was ready to make her grand debut.
That morning, I'd had a feeling that my little one was on her way. To begin, this was the end of the only two weeks of the entire year Dr. Horth, my OBGYN, had taken off, meaning someone else would have to deliver me. Madagascar 3 had just come out in theaters, and Aleigh could barely contain herself, so we were going on our last (for a while anyway) just Mommy and Aleigh date. And I felt unusually energetic and light, despite my lack of appetite, for being only four days from my official due date. All the signs were pointing to labor starting soon.
My bags were packed, my mom knew to anticipate a call, and I was ready. Except for one tiny detail.
I had always known I would write for my children. I would write them stories, I would write them letters, I would write them songs. I write. That's what I do... and one's children are the most powerful muse. So I decided when Aleigh was still just a peanut that I would write my babies a special letter, one per year, on their birthdays. These letters would encompass that year in their lives, how they'd grown and changed, what they'd learned (and what I had learned), and how very much they mean to me. And I'd keep them in a hardback journal until they were older, and, then, at some milestone or special occasion, I'd give these bound letters to them as a gift -- a little bit of me and a little bit of them wrapped up in my handwritten thoughts.
So, that morning around two, when my contractions were now eight minutes apart, I sat with a blank sheet of paper as I tried to write Abree's birthday letter. But the harder I tried, the more pronounced my intense writer's block became.
With Aleigh, I poured all the fears and uncertainties a first time mommy has into her letter. I told her I wished I could always protect her the way a mother can protect her unborn child; I told her I was scared that I wouldn't be the best mommy in the world but that I'd certainly try; I told her that, above all, she would never go even a second without knowing how much I love her. As beautiful as it was, it seemed that everything I wrote was driven by the unknown.
But, with Abree, my feelings were so different. Of course, I still wanted to protect her; of course, she would know how I loved her, but I'd been shown a completely different way to look at the world now. Aleigh helped me see wonder and joy, innocence and beauty, like I'd never seen them before. And I wanted that for Abree. I wanted to hear her giggle for the first time as she watched her sister do something amazing; I wanted to see her face light up when she discovered something new; I wanted to be on the receiving end of those chubby, wobbly, little legs as they tottered through their first steps. I didn't fear the unknown anymore. I looked forward to all that little Abree would bring to our lives. But expressing that adequately was proving impossible!
We left for the hospital that morning around four, my contractions three minutes apart and a sheet of paper with only the date, Abree's name, and the words "We have been waiting our whole lives for you" scrawled across the top still sitting on the computer desk.
I was able to finish the letter eventually, and, oddly enough, its tone is fitting to Abree's personality. It's sweet and happy, uplifting and even a little daring -- all characteristics of my little love.
Happy first birthday, sweet baby girl! <3
