Dear Lola,

Happy birthday!!  Geez, baby girl.  If you only knew how long I've been waiting to tell you that!  (Or, how long I've been writing this letter in my head.)  This letter isn't about me, it's about you and your mom and dad.  First, I'd like to tell you what an incredibly lucky little girl you are.  You have the most amazing parents, maybe a bit odd at times, but truly always amazing.  They have more love to give you, then you could ever know, or have room to hold.  Also, they have some pretty interesting habits and hobbies, so you are bound to have some cool stories to tell your friends.

The story of your birthday goes a little like this...  Your mom went into labor on Thursday.  So by Sunday, she was kind of a grouch.  Can't really say I blame her, especially considering she and your daddy had gone to the hospital twice, and were sent home twice.  I did my best to check on her without being too annoying, but like your parentals, I was anxiously awaiting your arrival.

I arrived (without getting a speeding ticket, or stuck in the parking ramp) at the hospital, found your mom, and felt much better when I saw that she was ok, and even smiling.  Here are your parents, Lola, big grins at 3:13pm.  Pretty sure your dad's exact words were, " We are ready to rock and meet our daughter!!"  Everyone was pretty certain, you  had to arrive soon - your mom was dilated to an 8, and contractions were pretty intense and very close together. 

About an hour later, you still hadn't arrived.  And, I sat watching you on the monitor (4:56pm).  Sweet Lo, your little heartbeat was so strong, just puttering away, yet the contractions were so close together.  After a few hours, you got noticeably tired.  Who wouldn't?  It's hard work coming into the world, and as minutes passed into hours, it took you longer and longer to recover.  As your heart rate dropped, 

so did mine.  Let's be clear: I knew you were not in danger, but knowing didn't make you arrive any faster.  And, it did not make watching your mom work through the pain and uncertainty any easier. So, I took pictures.  (6:04pm) I love how this pic makes me an official sister-wife.

And, I crocheted (7:48pm), getting a head start on Christmas gifts.

 and tried to keep your mama as comfortable as possible (8:55pm), without facebooking a single detail.

But, like you, your mama was getting tired.  You were stuck in the same pattern of enjoying your cozy womb space, not wanting to join our party.  Your mom was stuck on her left side, your daddy was enjoying his Pawn Stars marathon, and I was getting annoyed with your doctor.  Something wasn't right.  While I'm all for letting a body do it's thing, I was pretty sure the doctors needed to do their thing.

It was about 10pm, and after a significant drop in your heart rate, when the doctors started talking about a possible c-section.  I was relieved, thinking you would be here soon.  Finally, they were going to do something, and your mom could rest.  Also, having experience with the procedure, I was pretty sure it was a brilliant idea.  Your daddy, however, wasn't convinced.  He got a bit pale, when your heart dropped, and I scooted him to the other side of the room, gave him a quick hug, and told him to go take a walk, and if he had to eat, he should do it somewhere else.

But, yet, we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Your mom tried to sleep, and your dad zoned out to the television, and all was quiet, each wrapped up in our own thoughts.  After another round of four nurses rushing in, and your dad's wide eyes, I sqeezed your mom's hand and went to have a little chat with the doctor.

Let's be realistic, Lola.  I'm quite sure I didn't convince the doctor it was time for a surgical delivery, but I did have some choice words with her.  Minutes later, (at 1:03am)  I helped your dad into his gear

and hugged and kissed your mom, as the nurses wheeled her into surgery.  I really wanted to go with her, like really really didn't want to leave her, and I think she felt the same, but that would have been weird, right? (Prolly not that weird, considering all the other stories we will tell you - when you are 35.)

At 1:11am,  everyone was gone, and the room was empty, I sat on the floor and cried.   A nurse came in, and brought me to the waiting room.  She wrapped her arms around me, and whispered, "It's harder than you thought, right?"  I mopped up my tears, got some more coffee and waited for the pic.  I knew it wouldn't be long, and your dad had very strict instructions to let me know your mom was OK, and  you safely arrived, the very first minute he could.  Your dad - he's a good listener.  (1:40am)

While you were being wiped off, and measured and your mama was in recovery, I sat and watched several episodes of "Bad Ink".  It's this really great reality show about people who have terrible tattoos, and they go get them covered with super cool, new tattoos.  It's pretty incredible what some people choose to put on their body.  Keep that in mind, Lo, when you want to get inked.  I'm all for tattoos.  I'll even bring you to the parlor, if you want, when you are 18, of course. Just make sure your tatt mean something, that will still mean something, when you are 55.

Finally, after 10 months and 12 hours later,  I was allowed to hold you, and tell you a few little secrets.

One day, you may understand how difficult it is to keep a secret from your best friend, your soul sister.  I kept a secret from your mom.  I wanted to tell her, even tried to tell her, but I never actually did.  I knew that had I told her this very special secret, it would not have made sense, and it was impossible she could have understood.  See, Lo, there is this love, this incredible, indescribable love, that is - very literally - like no other love in the world. I kept it to myself, until today.  And, today, I knew I would never have to tell your mom the secret, because she knew.  The minute she held you, I could see.  She already knew.

Love you always. and forever. and no matter what.
gina lola