~Love is written here ~: turning 7

There is something hauntingly sad about the last day your child will be six.

Even if you can see that she is already seven.

When Ella was about to be born, Sandi and I were just about dead with excitement. My OB had set an evacuation date of sorts for Ella due to my having Type I diabetes. If she was not born by the 39 week, I was to be induced.

The start of week 39 was on a Tuesday and, having produced no baby, I was to call that morning to find out if there was room at the inn so I could be hooked up to the Pitocin drip. Sandi and I spent Monday twiddling our thumbs, packing and repacking our stuff (the cd player! the lotion! ha! what a joke!) and making chocolate chip cookies for the labor and delivery staff.

But alas, Tuesday was a busy day for the legitimately laboring and so I was told to stay home and wait until Thursday since my doctor didn't work on Wednesdays. I remember that day being so melancholy. They might as well have told me that I wasn't going to be having the baby ever by telling me I had to wait two more days.

Wednesday morning, days off be damned, I woke at about 4 am in labor. We were at the hospital around 6 and I spent the next few hours experiencing pain-free hypnobirthing labor. (Bahahahahahaha!!!!) More like, I rolled around, moaned and vomited and that cd player, the massaging of the feet and the aromatherapy never made an appearance.

By 10 am I was ready to push. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, by noon I will be holding my baby. Sandi's sister, Kristi, said that at 11 The Price is Right came on and she thought, this baby is going to be born during the most exciting hour of television.

We were both wrong.

After 3 hours of hearty pushing, Ella wasn't making much progress into the world. Finally, Dr. Lebowitz had to affix the vacuum to her head and suck her out. She had a reluctant start (especially compared to Maya's astonishing 4 minute delivery). A third degree tear later, I was finally holding my solid 8 pound 9 oz baby in my arms.

And Dr. Lebowitz said, "You two are the ones who brought in the cookies? No one EVER brings us in cookies." He said all this as he stitched me up. At least we were known as the cookie bearers instead of the lesbians.

And now, seven years later...

There is so much to love about Ella. She adores animals, her family, processed food, clothes and sometimes even her sister. She has a big heart, cares a lot what other people think, always wants to know what is coming next, loves to snuggle and cuddle and still has her beloved security blanket and she sucks her thumb when she's tired. She has lost three teeth, has just crossed the 50 pound mark and can turn Pandora on her favorite station on the stereo. In the past few months she learned to read, roller skate, ride horses and swim in the deep end. And she kicks ass on the monkey bars. She has chores, and allowance and gets to stay up later than Maya a few nights a week.

Ella is a rule follower, a distracted dreamer and a creative thinker. She often lacks self-confidence and bravery unless she is absolutely certain of her skill and surroundings. She is, as my mother has always said, discerning. She is thoughful and often wise, making me wonder if she has an old soul.

Her favorite vegetable is celery. Her favorite food is french fries, although she will lie and tell you its soup. She won't eat anything with nuts in it and if you put crumb topping on a muffin, she will nibble it off and leave the rest. The only cheese she will eat is sharp chedder. She doesn't like milk. The only bagel she will eat is blueberry from Bagel Central and only with a smear of cream cheese. And to be fully inconsistent, she goes crazy over cheesecake. She doesn't like breakast much, unless it comes with a side of syrup and she prefers the synthetically made Log Cabin to the pure maple syrup.

Ella is nothing if not complex.

This week, an early dismissal from school while Maya was still in preschool gave us two and a half hours for a Momma and Ella date.