The first thing that I thought when I saw you in the spotlight that had been aimed at my vagina was “holy shit, I gave birth to a statue!” But you have to remember that I was in extreme pain and had just found out that there was potentially something wrong with you.
And, well, you were covered in white goo.
My second thought was, “holy shit, that baby is PISSED the fuck OFF!” It sounds indelicate, saying that about a brand new baby, but I assure you, my girl, you have the lung capacity and vocal control of someone who is going to either be an Olympic swimmer (providing you’re not physically gimpy like me) or an opera singer (providing your not singerly gimpy like me).
It was a good thing they’d put us in the back corner of the L and D unit, or you’d have probably scared all of those women OUT of labor. THAT is how loud you were. Which, had I been forcibly ejected from my comfy home, I’d have been mad too.
Your temper is legendary in our house, but so is your sweetness. While both of your brothers had first years on the planet that made my hair go grey and my hand trembly, you were sweetness and love. And thunder of doom.
I think that combination will serve you well, actually. It’s always served me well.
I know as a mother, I’m supposed to be terrified of having a daughter. My own mother and I have a relationship that can at best be described as “complicated,” but with you, well, it’s just not. It will be maybe when you’re a surly teenager, but now it’s not.
I’ve never stopped proud when I say “I have a daughter” because to me, I always figured I would have a mess of sons. To me, having a daughter was the holy grail. The pink light in a sea of sausages. I am so privileged, so unbelievably honored to have you as my own, that I can’t imagine a day that I wouldn’t gnaw off my arm to give it to you.
(I’d do the same, of course, for your brothers)
The ways that you’ve changed me over the past year, I can’t even begin to put into words. If I could go back to those weeks when you were a wee embryo and have your neural tube fuse properly, I don’t think I would. Because through you, I’ve become a better person.
The world is a good place, Amelia, and you don’t know it, but you have made yourself quite a lot of friends already. People in all kinds of places have been praying for you since you were a wee thing and they’ve been watching you grow, cheering you on as you reach each milestone, and celebrating each victory.
You are so, so blessed.
As you grow, there are going to be times and places where people tell you that you can’t do something. Now, I’m not talking about spray painting your room silver or something stupid (the FUMES! GAH!), I’m talking about your dreams, your hopes, your aspirations.
Listen to me, my girl: DON’T LISTEN TO THEM.
Absorb every single bit of negativity into your soul and let it strengthen you. Let it fortify your resolve to do it. Let it feed you. Only you know what you need to do. Only you know the path you must take. And you do anything in your power to get there. Stop at nothing.
Live a life of no regrets, my love. Don’t say yes when you mean no. Say no when you mean no and don’t feel even slightly bad about it.
And remember that when you’ve taken over the world, call your mother. She loves you with all of her heart.
So today, my darling girl, on your first birthday, we shall eat pink cupcakes with hearts and pink sprinkles and we will play trucks and cars and trains because that is what you love.
Happy Birthday, big girl. I love you with all that I am.
I am so, so honored to be your mother.