Four

I find myself completely stunned to be the mother of a four-year-old. It's been four whole years since I closed my eyes in that operating room and listened in an exhausted semi-conscious state for my baby's cry. Four years since I first heard the whinnying cry I compared to a baby piglet.

Last night Dan and I were looking at pictures of little baby Anna, reminiscing about her bald head and serious face and curious eyes. Remembering what a total nightmare she was to feed those first few months and how surprised we were that two dark-haired, dark-eyed parents produced this incredible blue-eyed, redheaded porcelain doll.

Needless to say, the surprises haven't stopped. Every single day this exquisite, infinitely complicated creature makes me pause, blink, take a breath, smile. Anna likes to ask me why I was given two girls. And my answer is that I got the children I was supposed to have.

Indeed.


Happy birthday Muffin.