Thank Heaven For Little Girls

"Why you cryin'. Mama?"

My sleepy-eyed, just-turned-four-years-old-today daughter has just awoken from a rare nap. Rarer, still, in that she feel asleep in my arms after what was, in the four-year-old social scene, a pretty raucous birthday party. She thinks she's just asked a pretty simple question. But I don't have an easy answer.

I'm crying because there was a time we thought we might not be able to have any children, let alone two. Before we finally got pregnant with our son, I can remember literally getting on my knees and praying for a baby. Just one baby. I can remember thinking long and hard before uttering the second half of the prayer to God: "You don't have to give me one of your perfect ones. I'll take one of the ones others might not want. I'll learn the patience. Please just let me be somebody's mommy." Five and a half years later, we have not one, but two perfect children (perfect in form and function, that is...there's some wiggle room when it comes to the definition of behaviorally perfect).

I'm crying because as she slept, I thought about how neither one of us should have been here today. They took her early because of her size: 9 pounds, 15 ounces, two weeks before her official due date. I'd gone the c-section route before and so I knew something was not right with her delivery. It turns out having one giant baby 18 months after having had another giant baby took its toll. At some point in the last two weeks of my pregnancy, my uterus ruptured along the old incision. Lexi should have died and I should have bled out shortly after. The delivery docs and nurses were honestly amazed. I could hear them whispering about us while they weighed and cleaned Lexi and my doctor sewed me back up (I have crazy dog-like hearing, they didn't count on that). The irony is her size is the very thing that saved us. She was so big, her body held the torn flaps together, essentially plugging the hole. It may have been God looking out for us, it may have been luck. And while I give credit to both of those things, I give credit to my little girl, too. She has an iron will and fierce determination. I kind of like to think she somehow knew what was happening, gritted those little gums (no teeth at that time, of course), narrowed those big brown eyes, jutted out that little jaw and promptly jammed her little rear end into the gaping hole that tried to kill us and sat there until help arrived.

I am crying because she is beautiful. Honestly beautiful. I know all parents believe their kids are beautiful, but I really do know my daughter is. And I can say that without arrogance because the child looks NOTHING like me, at all! Her olive skin, dark hair, and dark eyes come straight from her Daddy's Italian genes. Even the build of her body and her funny little Fred Flintstone feet come from her daddy. Who knew my husband would be such a pretty girl! At four years old, she has a better tan than I have ever had in my life, including the summer I spent as a lifeguard. In fact, the only way I know for sure she is half mine is the tiny smattering of summer freckles spread across her nose (I used to get them as a kid) and her white-hot, lightning quick temper. It's a trait that was passed from my Grandfather to me (it sometimes skips a generation or two) and there is no mistaking it when you see it.

I am crying because she is confident and fearless and I hope the world never beats those attributes out of her. When I ask her who the most beautiful girl in the world is, she always knows the right answer. When we offer her the chance to try something new, she almost always takes it. What other four year old stomps around Busch Gardens angry that they wouldn't let her in Dark Castle or on the Big Bad Wolf because she is only 40 inches tall? I hope I find a way to protect her confidence and courage as I raise her so she doesn't lose them in her early 20's like I did.

I am crying because time seems like it is going so fast and I am starting to forget little things about her infancy and toddlerhood. But at the same moment, I am so proud of the little person she is and continues to become and that makes it hard not to be excited about her future and all that it holds.

I am crying because I am 100%, head-over-heels, over the moon in love with this little girl and her brother. I can't remember what life was like before them and don't want to imagine life without them.

I am crying because I have had had the honor of being this little miracle's mother for 1,459 days and feel like I have learned far more from her than she from me. I hope I have another 22,000 days or so on this earth to learn all she has to teach me. But for now, I am soaking in every single second that she is letting me hold her while she sleeps. I know, absolutely know, I am holding a angel in my arms.

"Why you cryin', Mama?"

I just sigh and smile. "Because I'm happy, baby. I'm just very happy. Happy birthday, my angel. I love you very much."

"I wuv you more. Get me some milky."

Ahhhh...the princess is awake ; )