Ten years ago today, I held my first baby, my sweet Petunia. Supposedly due 9/11/2000, she arrived, still unwillingly, 13 days late, after over two days of labor and my dug-in insistence that she was coming out the long way. When I finally started pushing, it took 2 hours and 17 minutes for this 21 3/4 inch-long, 8 pounds and 7 ounces of baby to emerge nearly soundlessly (a side effect of being quite stuck for quite a bit). All moms know: it was love at first sight, a greater love than I'd ever imagined. That day an every day since, I have been overwhelmed both by love and by the feeling that I am so lucky to know her.
Not much has changed in ten years: Petunia is still tall and built "athletically," and she's still very into doing things her own way. Independent as she is, though, she's still quite attached to her Mama. When she does something wrong, she 'fesses up before I even figure out something's awry, because, above all, she's fundamentally good. She's empathetic to a fault, and she's figured out some great ways to channel that into community service with the homeless and with the elderly. Loving music and animals, her current plan is to be a singing veterinarian. The only thing that matches her big heart are her huge brown eyes, which are always wide-open, full of curiosity and fun. She has her dad's charisma and my freckles. And, like him, she knows how to make me laugh when I'm mad as hell. Her cheeks turn pink when she's happy, and she's very rarely not happy. She's happiest when her brother is nice to her -- and she loves him more than any of us, a true testament to her boundless patience. She has loved soccer since she was 4, skiing since 7, and she can do both better than either of her parents. She'll be able to play me in tennis in another year or two, and her softball skills already surpassed my embarrassingly-weak ones (and if you ever saw me play "cluster softball" in boarding school, you are already laughing!). I coach her basketball team, and we still get along; she's coachable. When she grows up, she's going to do more than me, have more kids than me, have more patience than me, and be nicer than me.
When I grow up, I want to be Petunia.
I've said a lot of things here, but that's barely enough insight into this first child of my heart. She's beautiful inside and out, her "real" name means "beautiful gift from God." There is no better description. I am so lucky to know her at all, let alone to be her Mama.
To my sweet Petunia on her tenth birthday, thank you for every marvelous minute of the past decade. The next decade will see you leaving the nest, something which might seem to inspire a bit of panic in me, but know this: if anyone can do it, and do it well, you can. I have faith in everything you do. For the love you show us, I salute you today and everyday. It feels selfish to even propose it, but may the next ten years bring us yet more joy. I can't wait to see what's in store for you, my beautiful gift.
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