January 17, 2010. 6:52 a.m.:
I was certain you were a boy.
I was wrong.
And yet, when they put you in my arms and you looked up at me, with eyes shaped just like your daddy’s, I recognized you. The baby I’ve seen in my dreams. The one I left in my car with the doors unlocked. The one I forgot to feed for two days. The one I took out of my belly to play with at 6 months (and then somehow put back in). The baby I just knew was a boy…
…is a girl. A precious baby girl. My baby girl.
You’re here. Mommy’s little sidekick. Right on time. Tiny, but not. A respectable 7 pounds and 15 ounces. Beautiful. Feminine. Perfect.
Welcome to the world Lil Mil. You won’t remember this day, but I won’t forget a moment of it. The moment you entered the world. The moment you looked up at me for the first time. This moment — just sitting here in a hospital bed, watching both you and your daddy sleep, crying big fat tears of overwhelming, overflowing joy.