Four Years at Supersonic Speed

Four years ago today, I was super pumped to give birth. Being knocked up with my second child, it wasn't as if I didn't know what was coming. I knew my way around a delivery room, and I also knew that a lot of the crap that goes down in there is not pretty. Still...I was like - BRING. IT. ON.

After months of nausea (to all you first-trimester-only "morning" sickness sufferers, I simply say: AMATEURS) and increasingly stressful attempts to control my gestational diabetes that grew from a restricted diet and some finger pricks to a daily regimen of six insulin shots and calls to my endocrinologist every morning, noon and night (literally), I was really really really really really ready to not be pregnant anymore.

So I waddled into that hospital as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. And after twelve hours of labor, four failed epidural attempts, one sweet-ASS epidural success, and a mercifully small number of pushes, Miss Sophie Patrice Mathews entered the world.

I can't believe that was four years ago. Our baby is not a baby any longer, and my heart sings and breaks simultaneously at the very thought of it. I wish sometimes that I could scrunch her into a little baby ball, like human Play-Doh, and cradle her infant self in my arms just one more time. But mostly, I relish seeing her develop into this independent, feisty, sweet, clever, fantastic little girl...and I'm eager to continue watching her change and grow.

Happy birthday to our beautiful four-year-old! They haven't invented a word yet that adequately expresses how much you are loved, darling Sophie.