Happy 6th Birthday Preslee

Preslee,

 When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be 6 years old. You've been waiting for this day for months -- marking the calendar, counting the weeks, writing and rewriting your wish list. In the morning, I'll make your favorite breakfast: Chocolate chip pancakes and strawberry milk. There will be birthday cupcakes in the refrigerator. Chocolate with vanilla frosting, just like you asked.

 It's hard to believe that one-third of your childhood has passed. I keep telling you to stop growing, to stay 5 years old forever, but you just won't listen. "I have to grow up," you say to me. "My body wants me to."  I can't count your age on one hand anymore.  We have moved onto two hands.  I don't know how I feel about that.

 Six years ago, when I was pregnant, I tried to imagine what you'd be like. I thought you might like princesses, flowers and the color pink, so I decorated your nursery in pink gingham and roses and Aunt Amy made your crib bedding with chenille and tulle. Turns out, you are exactly the way I imagined. Although you love blue better than pink, you are SO girly. You love bows and headbands, frills and sequins. I have heard you pray for God to send you a tail because you want to swim in the ocean like a mermaid. You love dress up and playing with your dolls. You will sit at your desk for hours and make cards and write letters to everyone you know.

 I never knew you'd be so stubborn! Though I should have seen that coming, given the way you came into this world. You and your sister came 6 weeks early. After my 2-week stay in the hospital. While I was ready to meet you both, I was so scared.

It was a scary afternoon for both of us. For some reason, you struggled a little with the whole breathing thing in the beginning. I was really sick and it was almost 2 days before I got to see your sweet little face. When the NICU nurses visited me and told me you were on a breathing machine, I was terrified. I prayed for you to be OK and just be able to breathe all on your own. I just wanted to be able to bring you and Mason home. Even though you had never been in it, our home was full of your presence. It seemed softer because of you. It smelled powdery and sweet, like love.

It took three days before I could hold you and rock you at the same time. You were so weak that you could only focus on one thing at a time. I had to feed you first and then I could rock you. I didn't care, though. You were here, and you were perfect.

I held you on my chest, and you looked up at me like you wanted to know what was going to happen next. And you have looked at me and asked that every single day since. You always ask, “Where are we going, who’s coming over?” So inquisitive, so full of life!

 We have our tough moments. It’s a constant struggle picking out your clothes in the morning. When you get an idea in your head, nothing will change that. You are so passionate about your choices. While it’s hard and most days, I pray for a school uniform for you, I love it. You are driven and you are strong! You are going to be something SO big one day.

But mostly, Preslee, I'm proud of you. I'm proud of the way you march off to kindergarten every morning with a smile on your face and a spring in your step, like you are ready for anything. I am proud of the way you take care of your friends when they are scared or being teased in the schoolyard. I love the look on your face when you earn a new belt in karate or jump off the deep end of the swimming pool. Perhaps most of all, I appreciate the way you apologize whenever you hurt my feelings. You put your arm around my shoulder and say something that always makes me smile again. You are becoming SO grownup."I'm sorry, Mama," you say. "Don't you know our story always has a happy ending?"

 No matter how many birthdays you have, you will always be my beautiful, impatient, perfect little girl. No matter how old you get, I'll always be here to take care of you and make sure get all the hugs you need. These last 6 years have been amazing and I can’t wait to see what the next 6 have in store for us. I love you Pressy-Poo. You are my first-born. The first time I saw you, I knew what being a mother truly felt like. Happy Birthday baby! I love you!

Mommy