Happy Birthday, Ivey Lou.

I have just iced the last cupcake and wrapped the present.  Ivey, the little girl who constantly gives a tom-boy like me lessons in femininity, wants a pirate party.  Why?  Because my little girly girl likes robots and dinosaurs and pirates, that's why.  Hallelujah.

Tomorrow may be her party, but yesterday was her birthday.  It has been so hectic that it wasn't until tonight that I could sit and actually think about the day we met her for the first time.

I don't know if it's because the road to parenthood was such a rocky one for us or if I am a nostalgic, but I do not let one of my children's birthdays pass without spending time going back... rereading birth stories, watching videos, and look at pictures from the day they were born.  As the days are now spent teaching, disciplining, feeding, cleaning, and all of the other gusts that make up the whirlwind of our lives, it gives me a time to really reflect on how completely blessed I am, On how God decided to allow me to be each of their mother. 

Do all parents do this?  I child surely could not know how the birthday that means cakes and candles and presents to her, makes her mother drop to her knees and thank God, again, for that day?  This year, I began my reflection a little early.  This year, we went to Disney World right before Ivey's big day.  She had no idea, as she strolled with wide blue eyes and bouncy hair through the Magic Kingdom, that she was actually standing in the very spot where Jeff and I made the decision to choke back our fear and hopeless frustration and say "yes" to the treatment cycle that gave her to us.  We took a leap, and I spoke to my doctor, right there on Main Street U.S.A..

That was three years ago. 

Now, we have a beautiful, intelligent, spunky little girl.  The baby is almost gone.  Yes, she needs her blanket and her "bug".  Yes, she still gets sent to her room twice an hour to "put her whines away".  Yes, she still want to be carried when she's tired or feeling blue.  But, she is very quickly on her way to being such a big girl.  Yes, it's bittersweet.  I will no doubt long for the days when she would want to sit and rock with us.  I will miss those nighttime snuggles, when she grabs both sides of my face with her long delicate hands and stares right into my eyes... clearly saying "I love you" without speaking.  I will miss how she climbs into our bed in the mornings, stroking my hair while I try to get a little more sleep... or even those nights when I am up over and over again, responding to her sister's cries to extract Ivey from Olive's crowded bed.

My little spunky girl, My Ivey Lou, My Ivey V., My Ivey-punzel, I am so proud of the sweet girl you have become... and I am so blessed to be your Mommy.  Happy Birthday.  I love you!