Before Diva was born, I would talk to her momma's belly. I would tell Diva that she had to hurry up and grow big enough to come out into the world. I could not wait to meet her. I also told her that I would be her favorite auntie. *grin*
She made her appearance after a long week of torturing her momma with Braxton Hicks contractions. It was bitter cold, and of course, she decided to get born in the middle of the night. Why do babies always do that?
I met her for the first time just a few hours after she was born. I have seven nieces and nephews, and each one brought the same excitement, the same hope. Diva was the second girl baby in our family of boys. Her older sister, Mara, was twelve at the time. We were all ready for more pink. I loved her even before I met her.
Nine years later, that kid still holds my heart. Her parents split up just before she was born. When she was little, I was able to help out by taking care of her much more than I probably would have had they stayed together. We spent a lot of long nights together, pacing our way through teething, ear infections, colic. We've traveled together to Disney, to the seashore, the Mall of America, Wisconsin Dells. We've gone to swimming lessons and football practice and trick-or-treating. When we moved to a bigger house, she chose the colors for her very own room. I painted and laid the carpet, and my mom sewed her curtains. She has a chore list posted on the fridge. After my breast cancer diagnosis, she passed out pink rubber bracelets to everyone in her little world. She may not be my daughter, but she is my little girl. Two years ago, when I was confronted with my own infertility, I told Walker, "It's okay. We have Diva. She's all we need." It's true.
Happy Birthday to my beautiful little Diva. You are the light in my life. I hope you have a wonderful day!