If a hot flash in the middle of the night was not enough to remind me of my age, the fact that my oldest, Janay, turns a quarter of century today, is.  Happy Twenty Fifth, Sissy!

In keeping with Jarvis tradition, baby girl, this is your birth story… 🙂  You can shoot me later…

Six months after our wedding, and still trying to get thank you notes out for wedding presents, we found out we were pregnant.  Oops!  A little ahead of schedule.  Add a p.s. to those thank you notes…

Twenty five years ago, ultrasounds were not used unless absolutely necessary, so we didn’t know if you would be a boy or a girl.  I desperately wanted a girl, but had gotten my head around the fact that there was a good chance that might not happen.  Still, I hoped to have my firstborn be a daughter so that I could name her the name I had picked out at age 14 – Janay Rochelle.

My pregnancy with you was wonderful.  Every experience was new.  At sixteen weeks along I felt your first “butterfly” flutter.  My heart soared!  Life inside of me.  What I had always dreamed of was now a reality.  And my love for this little growing peanut grew every day.

Soon, those flutters turned to flips and kicks and elbows to my bladder.  Daddy and I could literally sit and watch my stomach morph into all different shapes as you seemed to do figure eights in my belly.  I would sit for hours with my hand on my ever increasing abdomen and feel the miracle of life.  The miracle of you.  And I could never do that without a goofy smile on my face.

About two weeks before you were due, I bent over to buckle my sandal.  Not an easy task when you are as big as a house.  And as I did, something started running down my leg.  I was sure that I was wetting my pants and started yelling at myself to stop.  But to no avail.  I called for your dad and he gently reminded me that my water might, in fact, have broken.

Off to the hospital we went and sure enough, I wasn’t incontinent.  My water had broken.  We were sure you were on your way.  But after two days in the hospital and not one contraction, the doctor decided to take a look to see what was going on.  Good thing.  Because I had informed everyone that I was not leaving the hospital without my baby.  Even if it was a boy 🙂

What they found was that my bag of waters had sealed back over and so you were snug as a bug in a rug still, with no urgency to come out.  Well, you weren’t urgent, but I was.  So they poked a little hole and let the waters flow.  And then came the contractions.  I was so glad to finally feel pain and get this thing going.  For a while, anyway.

By hour twelve, I was exhausted.  I was ready to be done.  I didn’t have an epidural with you.  (Didn’t discover the glory of those until your brothers came along!)  So I was whooped and the newness of the thrill of the pain had worn off hours before.  So when they said push, you bet I did!

Out you came – all seven pounds, six ounces of you!  And when the doctor called out, “It’s a girl!”  I screamed to Grammy and everyone out in the hall, “Mom!  I got my girl!”  You were beautiful.  Those gorgeous big blue eyes alert and staring at me.  And daddy was a basket case.  When they took you to the nursery, daddy followed and watched you like a hawk.  Beginning then and for weeks following, he wouldn’t let anyone but family hold you.  You were his baby girl, and he was your protector.

I remember sitting in my hospital bed that night with that same goofy grin, holding you, now, on the outside of me and realizing that as much as I loved experiencing the awe of pregnancy, it paled in comparison to seeing you and holding you and being amazed at all your perfect, tiny little parts.  Knowing that you were a part of me.  And experiencing for the first time that love that only a parent can have for a child.  An indescribable, unconditional love.  You looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes, completely trusting, fully relying on me.  A life changing  moment beyond compare.

My beautiful baby girl, who made me a mommy, who would give me all the “first” experiences of motherhood, became a lovely little girl who became a wonderful teenager who became a wonderful and amazing young woman, whom I am so proud beyond measure to call my daughter.  I think your love for Jesus came with you from the womb and your desire to share Him with others from the time you could talk.

As you get ready to head out to another incredible adventure (Cambodia) soon and share Jesus’ love, you will have my heart, as always, right with yours. I love you so much, sweet girl.  And I thank God every day for my precious little girl-woman that came into my world on August 17, 1985.  And every time I do, I smile. That same big goofy smile.  Happy Birthday, Sissy!