tuesday. seven.

every year it gets harder to realize you're growing up right in front of me. i'm so proud of who you are, and i love that i get to be here to watch you grow into the person you want to become.

seven years ago today ...

• i stared at the ultrasound screen at the hospital and realized i was terrified i'd never get to meet you.

• i prayed for the first time—to whomever might be listening—just to make you ok.

• i had never been so scared in my life.

• i met the tiniest baby i'd ever seen—and you were perfect.

• when the doctors let me see you, you pursed your tiny little lips and gave your mommy her first baby kiss.

• i cried. a lot. about everything new thing you did. and seven years later, it hasn't stopped.

• you turned your dad into a big baby.

• my lack of motivation disappeared, and all of the sudden i wanted to do everything, just to show you that you could, too.


things i've learned since then ...

• the day you were born is still the most terrified i've ever been.

• my favorite job in the world is getting to watch you learn and grow, and find things out for yourself.

• i apparently, am never going to stop crying over every little thing you do. get used to it.

• you are the best big sister a kid could ever have.

• you are sensitive, and caring, and always think the best of people.

• you clean better than i do.

• at 7, you have better fashion sense than your entire family put together.

• you are a perfect piece to our family puzzle, and we'd all be lost without you.