It’s Friday night and we’re staying in. Because it’s this Belly’s BIRTHDAY. You guys, how is she already nine years old? NINE. This is our last year before double-digits and I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around that {Also, how am I old enough to have a 9 year old. I’m only 20… right?!}. We did all of our big celebrating a few weekends ago, so tonight it’s just family night dinner with my three favorites. Of course, the birthday girl requested Zaxby’s and mint chocolate chip ice cream, so it’s looking like a picnic in mama’s room.And because what’s a birthday post without a letter to my biggest girl, I’m sharing some of my favorite words again. I wrote much of this post on a previous birthday, but it says all the things I need to share with my beautiful girl on her day.
My Bells. Ella Bella. Ellsy. Bellsy. Ellie. Ellie Belly. Belly Button. You answer to them all.
Nine years ago today, I was laying in a hospital room about to get an epidural. I had been there for almost 24 hours and I was OVER labor. We checked in at 4 o’clock on Sunday afternoon and were scheduled for an induction the following morning. I wasn’t thrilled about being induced on the fifth anniversary of a national tragedy, but I was already five days overdue and couldn’t wait one more minute to see your face. We were restless in the hospital that night, not knowing how the day would play out or how our lives were about to change forever. The on-call doctor convinced me you would be born before morning, so I panicked and Gran, Poppy and K came to see us late that evening. I remember watching television in the middle of the night, alone in labor and delivery while your daddy tried to get some sleep.
Morning dawned and we were still there. You were happy where you were and had made no effort to greet us. I spent the morning showing the nurses pictures of your nursery and complaining about my hair. Dr. Gregory had assured me I could take a shower before your arrival, but the on-call doctor the night before insisted that they start an IV, so I was destined to meet you with greasy hair and a chip on my shoulder. Forgive me? We laugh now about how often I complained about how dirty I was. And the chapstick. Oh, the chapstick. I must have reapplied it a hundred times that day.
After ten hours of labor, we decided a C-section was in order. My doctor was concerned I would continue to labor overnight, so she decided to deliver you before her shift ended instead. It was quite the whirlwind of activity as they secured an operating room and I cried with Gran. I was so ready to meet you and not at all concerned with how they got you out, but overwhelmed at how anxious I was about the whole situation. Sweet Daddy & I greeted your 7 pound 3 ounce, sweet baby face at 6:03 in the evening on Patriot’s Day. The first words out of the doctor’s mouth were about how beautiful your lips were. They still are.
Watching you grow for the last nine years has been nothing short of extraordinary. You were such an easy baby and taught me so many things about being a mom. You were speaking conversationally by the time your first birthday rolled around and you still astound us with your vocabulary on a daily basis. You’re smart and quick-witted and hilarious, thanks to your daddy’s sense of humor. You have such a servant’s heart and love church and Bible Journaling. You love to sing and dance and can have an impromptu dance party at the drop of a hat. You love our grandma dog and are slowly warming up to the kittens at the log house. You are inquisitive and ask so many questions about why things exist and how they work and where babies come from?! You love to “teach” your imaginary students and play shop owner and waitress. Your imagination knows no bounds. My favorite thing ever in the whole wide world to do with you is to watch you dance. It’s such a sacrifice of time and money and you lose sleep and reading time and after school activities with your friends, but man is it amazing to watch. Please don’t ever stop twirling to the refrigerator or leaping to answer the front door.
I’m not one of those mommies that lament the growing up… well, not too much. Each year and each phase has been wonderful and hard in its own way. Growing up is bittersweet, but with each passing moment you become an even more wonderful person and getting to know you as something other than a baby is so much fun. I don’t miss bottles and diapers and I don’t have baby fever. I’m not sure I would even go back in time if given the opportunity. I love the little person you are. We have things in common and you can carry on a conversation with the best of them. The last nine years have been so full of love and laughter and I know I’ll look back on the next nine years and the nine after that and have nothing but wonderful memories of you, my spunky little girl.
Happy Birthday, Belly! YOU are my favorite.
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Just as I do every year, I struggle with how to fit a celebration of life and a post about the tragedy that occurred fourteen years ago in the same space on the same day. We are celebrating our sweet girl with abandon, but it is a bittersweet day. Today we are remembering those who lost their own lives and for those family and friends who were left behind. You can read about where I was on 9/11 here and see our visit to the memorial here. You can also watch this wonderful video a friend shared several years ago, if you dare. Arm yourselves with a tissue, friends.
