Ten years ago today, at 1:32 in the afternoon, you entered my life. You weighed 7 pounds, 14 ounces and I was petrified of you. I loved you with all my being, but didn't have the slightest idea of how to take care of you. You cried.. A LOT... and were never interested in falling asleep in my arms. But after a few months we seemed to figure each other out, and you morphed into a pretty easy baby.
I take such pride in watching you become the person you are. You are timid but fiercely independent. You try your hardest at everything you do and are a good friend. You are a rules-follower and love structure, and definitely need some alone time every day to center yourself.
And you are brave. Nothing has shown this more than how you deal with your diabetes. You get sick of it sometimes, and yell and scream and cry. But so do I. Sometimes you're embarrassed by it, but other times you wear it as a badge of courage. You seem to be developing the sense of, "diabetes is something I have to deal with, but it's NOT who I am," and I love that.
Ten years ago today I never would have guessed we'd be on this diabetes journey together. But here we are. And I am in awe of how gracefully you handle it.
I never could have guessed how absolutely perfect your name would be.
I love you.