Nine years ago, on February 15th, I was at a baby shower a friend’s kid. I remember months later, when we found out that K had been born and on what day, I remember thinking how appropriate it was that I’d been at a baby shower. So I do know where I was and what I was doing when my daughter was born.
When we started getting the first pictures of her, one set a month, she looked so serious. Her wide, dark eyes, her tuft of dark hair, always looking at the camera. In a later set of photos, perhaps her seven month set, she was almost smiling. I love that photo.
I love all the photos. I love all the pictures of K as an infant, her first days in a country far away with a foster mother who loved her and cared for her very well.
Today my daughter is nine years old. She is utterly amazing, fantastic, talented and accomplished in ways I never envisioned. She is entirely herself in ways I could never have dreamed.
I love you, K. Happy birthday.
Like this:
Filed under: Autobiography, Parenting Tagged: | birthday, kids
