Can it possibly be seven years ago yesterday that I gave birth to my first child?

And why does seven strike me as such a momentous anniversary? None of her other birthdays have affected me this way, but suddenly, I have a seven-year-old daughter, and the world feels like a different place.

This little marvel of a child who can read and write, add and subtract, make friends and good decisions on her own — that I had a hand in the making of her — that has blown my mind.

I’ve spent the last few days (in-between all the hustle and bustle of birthday parties and their aftermath) slowly digesting the fact of her birthday; really now entirely her birthday, and not the anniversary of the day I gave birth (at least not to anybody but me anymore).

But since this blog is about me, I’m going to indulge this instinct to revel not only in her beautiful and marvelous seven-ness, but also to indulge in the reminiscence of the day of her birth. So, we go back in time: seven years and three days ago, to the late evening of October 25, 2000, Year of the Golden Dragon. Read the rest of this entry »