Category: farm

Nine years ago, as I celebrated my birthday, I was miserably pregnant. This baby was already a doozy, and it wasn’t even here.

We didn’t know whether we were expecting a boy or girl. All I knew was that this baby wouldn’t stop moving, except when it lodged one foot squarely underneath the right side of my rib cage. With almost two weeks until my due date, I sobbed, not knowing how I could possibly survive until then.

“Seven, maybe eight pounds,” the obstetrician said. “You’re just a little person—there’s just not much room for that baby.” This was not much consolation as I tugged on the only pair of pants that still fit.

Thank goodness you arrived a week and a half early. When you emerged, the OB said, “Hey, that’s a good size baby!” In my mind, you were a small, blonde boy. The baby they handed me was a nine and a half pound bruiser of a girl with thick brown hair.

When you have a baby, you have a picture of who you think they will be. I expected a sort of shy child who would be quick to read and studious at school, but prudently cautious in most other areas.

This is the part where experienced parents start laughing.

And, yes, I’m laughing, too. Because, girlfriend, you came out kicking and screaming and ready to experience life in a way I never imagined. I wrote about this on your last birthday.

I admit, I was befuddled by this baby, so unlike myself. But once I made the paradigm shift, I learned to parent the child I had, not the image I had in my head.

Shortly after you learned to walk, we would go to the zoo, just so I could let you run in a secure place for hours on end. I blew off concerned looks from other parents as my three-year-old dangled perilously from the monkey bars. (You never fell—not even once.) We eschewed story hour and Mommy and Me in lieu of parks and tumbling classes.

We’ve covered a lot of distance between then and now. You have had an outstanding year, coming into your own and tackling some massive obstacles. There are things that will always be challenging, but kudos to you for facing them head-on. And those things at which you excel? They continue to blow me away.

I’m writing this a few days after your birthday, and I’m thinking that was meant to be.

Our annual birthday photo shoot was crap. I declared a redo the following day, next to the apple trees which were suddenly in bloom.

And this evening you wrote your first poem. It’s possible you’ve written one in class, but this is the first poem you composed of your own volition. Pretty wise words from someone fresh out of the gate.

Think of all the things you could be.
You could be a train rider on a train.
You could be a great gardener.
You could be anything you want.
Reach up there and pull out
an idea for what you will be.
And live in peace.

Half of your years under this roof have passed. While this is bittersweet, I’m so excited to see what the next nine will hold.

Reach up and pull out an idea, my love. I’ll be here to watch it bloom.