Monday, October 12, 2009

To My Daughter On Her Birthday


I've been kind of dreading this day for a few months as it marks a milestone for you - measuring our age in double digits! It's just further proof that my baby is growing up way too fast and that time is indeed precious. 

What I did not anticipate is that only 10 days before your 10th birthday, you would have been admitted to the hospital for your first (and hopefully last) major surgery. I would be lying to you, baby girl, if I said that experience didn't rock my world. But, thanks to the grace of God, it was rocked in a positive way.

You see, as your mom, I know you're one of the most kind-hearted, compassionate little girls around. You hurt for your friends when they're sad, have never met an animal you didn't like, and always make time for your own Puppy Posse. You never fail to stop and give someone a hug when you see them crying and always tell me 'I love you' at least 5 times a day. You still want to be tucked in at night, request multiple hugs throughout the day and only wanted 'Mommy' when you were in the hospital and at home last week while you recovered from surgery.

And did I mention that you're funny? Because you totally crack me up each and every day. Many times. You're bright and smart and think about things in ways that totally baffle me. You're very mature for your age and almost always have a smile on your face. (Those 'tween hormones are rough but they don't get you down too often.)

What I did not realize is how tough you are, my dear. When we picked you up from PNO and your arm was broken much worse than we ever dreamed, you just wanted to go home and go to sleep. You wouldn't accept pain meds in the ER and we had to make you take them at 2am so you could rest before surgery the next day. That means you went 5.5 hours with NOTHING to help you get more comfortable - everyone was amazed!

You were anxious and scared going into surgery but you never complained. You just wanted it over with (and can I just tell you that we did too?) so you could move on with your precious little life. You didn't need a lick of morphine after surgery (the nurse said this NEVER happens) and went straight to oral meds. You did your post-op breathing exercises like a champ and everyone taking care of you was again amazed with your progress.

You've not complained once about this situation - not even about being unable to get back in the gym until January. While it broke my heart to watch you hurt, little one, it seems to have barely been a blip on the radar for you and, as I type this, you're celebrating your birthday with your friends at Play & Learn.

I love you, Bugga, and can't imagine life without you. On this, the mark of your first decade on Earth, know that we love you unconditionally, will always be here for you, and continually learn from you. Each and every day.