11 years ago today I dropped little Beth off at the neighbour's house. I'd just had my 8th month pre-natal checkup and had no reason to think that these were anything more than Braxton Hicks, but it was best to check into the hospital and see. My doctor had only hours before told me that all was well and we had a few weeks to wait. Laura was due on Feb. 9, possession day of our new house, and I was hoping for a slightly late baby so that we would no longer be living in one room of our friend's house.
It was not to be. Laura had her own plan. Three hours after driving myself to the hospital, Laura was in my arms. Sweet, squirmy, restless, Laura. The earliest of my babies and the largest of my babies. I'm glad now that she didn't wait until we were alone in our house. Those first weeks were wonderful. With 8 other people in the house, I was allowed to rest more than the usual new mom and I was able to share new baby cuddles, naps and smells with our friends and their children.
And now she's 11. I don't know if that's good or bad. It just "is" and it surprises me. All mothers say that. How did we get here so fast?
I was going to make her an elegant cake with layers and shavings of chocolate, but she had another idea.
That's a purple cow. As in "I never saw a purple cow, I never hope to see one. But I can tell you anyhow, I'd rather see than be one". They all grow up at their own speed, and in some ways she's' still the childish little girl we've always loved.
Happy Birthday, Laura!