Eight years ago, I became a mother.
Abriana Gabrielle was born on a Saturday, nine long days after her due date. (God bless the person who invented Pitocin.) She had enormous cheeks, jet-black hair, and little squinty blue eyes. She weighed 9 pounds.
(I’ll never forget hearing the nurse say, “Eight-sixteen. Wait…isn’t that nine pounds?” Yes. Yes, it is.)
A couple hours after she was born, a nurse rushed into my room with release papers for me to sign, saying that Abby’s blood sugar wasn’t right, she needed to go to the NICU right away. It was confusing and scary. No one wants to see their newborn with a tube down her nose, with wires attached to her head and chest. No mother wants to leave the hospital without her child. But I did. How’s that for an introduction to parenting? My Abby spent 5 days in the NICU, by far the largest baby there.
On Thursday she finally came home, and she’s been the picture of health ever since. Here she is at 5 days old:
We didn’t have a digital camera when she turned one. So all the pictures of that momentous occasion are actual prints, located somewhere in our shed. Trust me, they’re super cute.
Without further commentary, I give you…Abby through the years. Enjoy.
Turning 7 (no more baby face):
Happy Birthday to my first-born, my big girl, my brilliant and talented Abby. You can’t imagine how much I love you.