I was a nervous wreck.
In blue paper scrubs,
Staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror above the scrub-in sink,
The sharp smell of the sterile soap punching my nose,
I was waiting, waiting . . . waiting.
We were on the brink of a new life — both yours and mine.
With an anxious heart, I closed my eyes,
Dreaming of puffy pink clouds and lacy green ferns —
The Idyllic life . . .
The one I’d waited for, yearned for,
Since the moment I first became aware of the call of Motherhood.
Would you really be mine?
Would I really be yours?
And, then I saw you, glistening and wrinkled
Crying, shrieking, trembling, blinking under the white hot hospital lights,
searching for your Mother.
She was beside me, immobile on the operating table.
Young, brave, and determined that you would be
She looked at you as I looked at you.
The daughter we both wanted,
the daughter we both would share.
This time three years ago,
She gave You to Me.
Now, a fully grown Princess,
(in your own mind, anyway)
Your eyes search for your Mommy
And you find Me.
You climb into my lap,
tousled curls falling across my neck,
And you tell me tales of monster bugs,
ask me to play Hide and Seek,
twist your fingers tight in the mass of my own curls.
Ever busy, ever moving, ever singing.
My quickly growing little girl —
Joined with me
In our world of puffy pink clouds
and lacy green ferns.
Happy Birthday, Little Lady.