A year in the life of a ladybug...

Hi, my sweet girl. Mama here.

A long, long time ago, your Daddy and I decided that three just wasn't the right fit for us. Four? Four would feel divine. And so we set out to get ourselves a baby.

We had to wait so long for you, we'd all but given up hope. We wanted you so, so much, but it just didn't seem to be in the grand plan.

Then one day, there you were.

I marveled at every heartbeat, every flutter. Every second that you spent in my belly was a miracle (Okay, except the moments you opted to do jumping jacks. Those I could have lived without). The world's most patient ultrasound technician, who saw us every two weeks (lucky us, getting to see you so much!), said "Girl." "Girl?" we said. "Girl." she said. Whatever would we do with a GIRL?

Oh, but whatever would we do without a girl?

July 17, 2007, at 1:29 PM, my heart grew fourteen sizes, at least.

I had no idea how much I needed you. How much I wanted you. How much I loved you. You came into the world too beautiful to be mine, and you continue to prove that every day.

You gave me your first smile at three and a half weeks.
It melts me every. single. time.

That's not your only face, though.
I don't know how your teeny little body holds all that personality.

You are sunshine, you are surprise, you are magic. I can't believe you're mine. I'm the luckiest Mama in the world.

A whole year has passed, and that makes me kind of sad. I want you to stay my tiny little ladybug forever.

But here you are, taking lots of steps. You've got lots of words, like "Stop" and "Bird" and "Bubby" and "Bah-bull" and "Bye Bye" and "Baby." Stuck, and Daddy, and Papaw, No, and Good, and That. My favorite, I'd have to say, is Mama, but I'm probably a little bit biased.

You've gone from being barely able to drink from a bottle to feeding yourself--or trying, at least.

I love that you say "Hi" to everybody and blow kisses on command. I love that your favorite music is bluegrass and how you try to snap your fingers to the radio. I love that you sit in the middle of the living room floor and yell for your brother to come play. I love that you know exactly what you want pretty much all the time, and you don't let the fact that you're not as big as the other kids keep you down.

I love that you are so happy. I love that you stick your tiny little toes in my mouth and demand "wee wee wee!" (we'll revisit that subject in a couple of years when your tiny little toes stop tasting so nice...) I love that you can't keep your tongue in your mouth, ever, because it reminds me of my own mama and lets me know that you've got a part of her in you.

Everything about you makes my heart happy.



I wish you a hundred more years just as happy as this one has been. I hope that for the rest of your life, this day is as beautiful and magical as the day you were born.

I love you, my ladybug. I always have, and I always will.

Happy, happy birthday.