For Sophie

Six weeks before you were born, I had a dream that you were a boy. And so, with no other scientific data to prove otherwise, I went about my business growing a healthy baby which I was convinced was a boy.

When the time came and you were born, the doctor yelled "It's a girl!" and if I remember correctly my response was "IT IS?" I was rather surprised but in the hustle and bustle of the immediate hours post partum I didn't have much time to think about it. But when I finally got to my room in the maternity ward, I laid there waiting for them to bring you to me, all the while thinking "what am I going to do with a girl?" Will everything have to be pink? Will everything need to have bows and ribbons? Will there be dresses and patent leather shoes? What? What am I going to do with a GIRL?"

After the nurse brought you to me, all swaddled and sleeping a deep sleep, all clean and soft, I kissed you and held you for awhile thinking to myself that you were the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen and thinking "eh, we'll figure out the pink and the bows and the ribbons later."

Sophie, it is now SEVEN years since you took your first breath and those seven years have been full of pink and ribbons and bows. But those seven years have been filled with more, so much more than just frilly little things. Things that are wonderful, things that are beautiful, things that make me believe in goodness and love.

I can hardly believe there was a time I thought maybe I wouldn't understand having a daughter, that I wouldn't know what to do with bows and pink and ribbons and sparkles. I may not appreciate the color pink very much but between the two of us there is a common thread, a bond, that ties us together in a way I don't know how to really explain. But it's there and it's strong.

On your seventh birthday I would just like to wish you every pink, sparkley happiness and tell you that I love you very much.
Happy Birthday, sweetheart.