I'm in disbelief. I have heart palpitations. It can't be.
When all of my babies were babies, and I was fighting to keep my head above water, I couldn't conceive of them growing older. I always imagined I would have little people underfoot.
And now Xiomara--the "baby" of the family--is seven years old. Seven years ago, I was writhing in pain, just about ready to have my sixth child. I can't do this again, I thought to myself in between contractions. Never again. The pain took my breath away. But once she was out, all wet warm skin and chubby neck, I forgot all about the pain.
I just buried my face in her soft skin and enjoyed my daughter. Now, seven.
Seven was a hugely pivotal year for me. I turned seven and everything changed. I can't imagine Xixi's life taking a similar turn. Her life is simple and she is content. She is also a sassy little thing. Pretty much everything is said with a hand on her hip.
She had a day filled with family, Panera, shopping, frozen yogurt, swimming and having fun. She is a happy girl. I hope she stays that way.
Happy birthday, baby girl.
