My Elisabeth is nine today. I know this because she ran into our room this morning at 6:30 and jumped on our bed and declared it while we sleepily wished her a happy birthday.
It is both hard to believe that is was 9 years ago that I delivered a beautiful baby girl that the hospital staff kept telling me I'd get to take home with me. I'd bounce back and forth between awe and terror that this tiny, tiny baby was now my responsibility. I kept petting her pitch black hair as she laid snuggled against my side and practiced feeling like a mommy.
Now that little baby who was 7lbs and 18.5 inches long is 9 years old and 4'8". She earns reading awards in 3rd grade and loves to read Harry Potter together at night before bed. That little baby, who was so ready to be in her own crib at 3 months is now in a full sized bed that she just got yesterday and said feels like she's in her own hotel room. My sweet little baby who cried like a lamb now tells me often how she just can't wait to be a grown up.
She's still that same little baby, but I can also see parts of that grown-up that she is longing to be.
Happy birthday, my sweet Ebethers. You are so very loved.
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