Or at least she will be tomorrow. Two. I’m baffled.
And so the story of her goes . . . she is a miracle. After losing one to a heartbreaking miscarriage and three subsequent surgeries, we found out we were pregnant again. Those doctors will never know fully how God worked through their hands – Connie Ostrowski, Anne Ford, David Walmer. And we are thankful beyond measure.
2 years ago we knew she would come on that day. It was planned (which is just the way I like things) and before we knew it her tiny head was lifted above the curtain. This was just after it got very quiet in the operating room – the cord had been wrapped around her neck 4 times. Had we waited another week, we could have lost her. She is a miracle.
This 2 year old is living up to her life before birth. She is strong, independent and fearless. Last night we found her climbing the shelves in the pantry to get to the cookieeeeeeees. I’m thankful for the strength and independence she has – I have prayed for those characteristics. Even the fearlessness is a blessing in many ways. I hope these are traits she keeps – just as long as she doesn’t get too terribly hurt.
And she’s funny. Like her daddy. This is what frightens me! 🙂
We landed on her name because a friend of ours (Laura) said that it sounded spunky. And spunky’s what we got. She is difficult and easy. Serious and giggly. Loud (at the wrong time) and quiet (at the right time). Girly and a tomboy. Unpredictable. All four seasons in one day.
And I know that 13 will come too quickly. And that 18 will be here before I know it. And college and moving away and all that stuff that comes with becoming a grown up. And I know that I will deal with each stage miserably – and end up learning more from my mistakes than from books or advice. I know there will be days when I will be her worst enemy and days when we’ll be best of friends. I know we will both say things that we’ll always regret. I know that we will butt heads, that there will be tears, and she will want to move out of the house as quickly as possible. I know these things – because she gets her independence from me. That, and I’ve been cursed by my mother with having 4 girls just like me.
So while she’s two, I’m going to try to not care so much about which shoes she decides to wear with her Sunday dress. I’m going to try to not care so much about the fact that she won’t eat broccoli. I’m going to try to run around outside with her more, even if I’m dog tired from working all day. Keep blowing bubbles even when they are running down my arm and dripping on my feet. Laugh a little more when there are pencil scribbles all over the wall or ink all over her legs. Spend more time letting her entertain me than the characters on TV. And try to not have 20/20 vision in hindsight only.
Happy Birthday, sweet girl.