From the moment you arrived in this world, one week late and taking your own sweet time, I knew my time with you would be different from what I expected. Your sister was an easy baby, an easy toddler.
Not you.
The second I held you in my arms, your dad and I burst out laughing. "Look at her face," I said, "she is so dang angry!" And your perfect little mouth was pursed and you had your brows all furrowed...and then you let out a howl.
And oh boy, did you howl. And didn't stop.
You were a colicky baby, and for two hours every night I had to carry you with my hand on your stomach and you facing forward. I walked back and forth in the living room non-stop...it was the only thing that would make you stop crying. Those were the days before a Fit Bit would have told me how many steps I had taken. All I knew is that it made you feel better, and the howling would stop.
From the very, very beginning, you made your presence known. If you weren't happy with a situation, you made sure we all knew it. I felt incredibly inadequate with you at the beginning. Why weren't you happier? What was I doing wrong?
I tried nursing you and had to give it up after a couple weeks. "Oh my god," I'd whimper, with bags of frozen peas on my chest. "She's chewing my damn nipples right off."
Then you grew out of the newborn stage and couldn't wait to get to the next stage.
You crawled.
You walked.
You ran.
One time I had you at my aunt Patti's house and my cousin Jenni and I were watching you while you kept walking to the stereo and pressing buttons that you weren't supposed to. You were about 18 months old.
"Sophie Rose," I'd admonish, trying not to laugh. "You are being naughty and going to get your hand slapped if you keep doing that." And you'd look over your shoulder to make sure I was still watching and then you'd press all the buttons again.
You always loved seeing our reactions when you did the unexpected.
All through your toddler and pre-school years you challenged me as a mother. I used to laugh and say to others, "Oh, she is my firecracker for sure. She is a pistol." But deep down I used to worry, "What was I doing wrong? Why can't I get through to her?"
Before you started kindergarten I had convinced myself that I wouldn't be the blubbering mess that I was when your older sister had started. I knew that independent streak of yours would make you so ready for school, there was no doubt in my mind. I knew school was the best thing for you.
Your first day arrived and I was fine, smiling as you raced ahead of me down the hallway heading toward your classroom. Something happened to me though once I saw your name on your little cubby.
My throat tightened up and I felt tears well up in my eyes. "Jesus Christ, pull it together," I told myself. I went into the room where the teachers and principal talked to the parents. I heard the opening speech's lines of "We know you are entrusting us with your most prized possession..." and then I lost it. I cried so hard one of the teacher's took me aside and tried to console me. I couldn't figure out why I was such a wreck. I mean, I know I'm a crier but jeez...
It was so much fun seeing you get that excited for school. After a couple days though I got a call from your teacher. Turns out you were pretty homesick for your momma. You'd cry during class and they even called your sister Frankie in from her 2nd grade class to comfort you. That night after I got that call, I knelt down next to you and gave you a cross necklace of mine. "Wear this," I told you. "And whenever you get lonesome for me doing the day, just touch the necklace and think of me and know I'm going to see you soon." And you wore it every day for weeks, until you no longer got sad.
Throughout your years of growing up you continued to never back down for what you wanted. Your love of horses showed early, and we made sure you were around them as often as it would allow. I was always so impressed by your lack of fear.
If I could think of one word to describe you, it would be 'Fierce.'
You've been fierce in your determination, fierce in your loyalty, and fierce in your beliefs.
Out of all my children, you have been my biggest challenge. You had no fear in standing up to me or challenging me. But also out of all my children, you remind me the most of myself when I was younger. That insane desire to keep things private, the need to go against authority or fight the status quo. I get it, I do. You are my mini-me in that regard.
I see you now, so ready to conquer the world. Your determination impresses me.
Don't get me wrong...I have spent many, many days and nights wondering if I was screwing it up with you. Why didn't you listen? Why didn't you care if I was mad or grounding you? What was I doing wrong? How would I ever teach you life's important lessons if you were constantly challenging me?
But in the end, it was YOU who taught ME.
You taught me that parenting is an ever-evolving process.
You taught me just as no two children are alike, no parenting style is as well.
You taught me that success in parenting is measured in many ways.
And most of all, you taught me that one of my greatest joys is being your momma.
I can't wait to see how you conquer your world, Sophie Rose.
I love you fiercely.
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