She was the first in every way, from the moment they laid her warm 8 pound 6 ounce body onto my chest. Heart to heart, my world would never be the same. She didn’t even cry. She held up her little head looking around the room as if she were surveying it’s worth. The doctor, and everyone else in the room shared the same look of awe at her incredible strength. I am to this day amazed that she only scored a 9 instead of a 10 on her APGAR rating, because she did not enter the world screaming like a banshee. If I think about it, she entered the world pretty much the same way she enters a room now. She silently walks in with her head held high, and her beautiful chocolate-colored eyes surveying everything around her.
She is petite in stature, but large in her presence. Her “Helen of Troy” beauty lures you in, but her total command of the room makes you want to stay. She’s engaging, smart, direct, and her sense of humor is fueled by her unyielding desire to see your ability to withstand her way of magnifying your most hidden human characteristics. She can be extremely driven, and has very little tolerance for those who disregard her need for personal space, for uncleanliness, and disorder. She has zero tolerance for disloyalty, and I think this stems from the fact that she is quite possibly one of the most loyal people on the planet.
She sees the world from a more grown up point of view than I do. Even though she is to grown now to lay across my heart she is forever entwined in it’s every beat. We can talk for hours about everything, and nothing at all. I can count on her to tell me the truth when none else can. She sees me in a way that no one else can see me. Her very existence makes my life better. That’s the thing about daughters… 😉