I remember the day you were born. What I wore. What I ate for breakfast. The lump in my throat when the ultrasound tech told me you'd be 9 pounds. No wonder my blood pressure hit the roof! I remember calling my friend - and labor nurse, Karen, and telling her the Dr. was ready to induce. I remember how Rhonda and Courtney beat us to the hospital - even though they were 30 minutes away and we were right across the street. I remember signing the paperwork to have an epidural - then later deciding not to. And I do remember how badly it hurt. I remember Karen telling me not to push, and crying back at her that I couldn't help it. I remember hearing "It's a girl!" for the first time. A baby girl. A "big girl" they called you - 8 lbs, 7 oz- but you looked so tiny to me. I remember your Daddy cutting the cord, and later telling me how he carried the pink slip of paper to the waiting room and held it up to the window to show the awaiting crowd a daughter was born. I remember your Grandma June looking pretty rough - as if she was the one who'd just given birth. She probably would have fared better had I gotten the epidural. I remember how intently you stared at my face, with your blue-gray eyes, as if you were as anxious to know me as I was you. You felt brand new, yet so familiar all at once.So my Lily-girl, when I get a little teary eyed as each birthday comes and goes, you'll just have to understand - it's because I remember the day you were born. And that's probably the biggest difference between me and you. A day that you will never recall is forever ingrained in my memory, as if I lived it yesterday. But sadly, the other 2, 919 days of your life blur together, passing much, much too quickly. And so as happy as I am to celebrate you and your precious life, your birthday will always be bittersweet, because my love, I remember the day you were born - 8 years ago today. Happy Birthday, my Lily.
