It was super traumatic finding out I was pregnant with our second a mere seven weeks after our first came home from the NICU. Duh, right? I wasn’t ready, mentally or emotionally. But she was there, and she was real, and she was going to add to our family.
She took her sweet time getting here, eight days after her due date, which I somehow took as a personal insult after giving birth to her brother 14 weeks early just the year before. Not that I wanted her to be a preemie too, but somewhere close to her due date would have been nice. Once she knew we were kicking her out of her comfy, quiet home, though, she was suddenly in a rush. She was born with an enormous pout on her face. And she wrapped her Daddy around her little finger with her very first breath.
She is a Princess, with brothers on both sides. Some days she owns that more than others. Some days, she is full of the drama, some days she is full of the grace. She can be a wee bit spoiled, but always in a good way. We do bring her back down to earth when she tries to wear her crown a little too boldly.
Her chubby baby rolls have given way to long, lithe legs and arms. The spiral curls her brother cut off when she was just three have grown into thick, beautiful, wavy hair. Her eyes stayed a bright blue. Freckles (angel kisses) paint her face. I see the girl she was, and the woman she is becoming in that face. My heart aches at the difficult things she will face, and is full of joy being able to watch her grow up.
She’s fourteen today, that precious baby girl. She grows up, but she will always be the baby girl who colored my world pink.