I’ll never forget what happened on May 23, 2008 at 3:11 in the morning. Ava arrived in the world and looked at me with an intensity that I think stopped my heart. I actually did pass out.
These past four years we have watched our still intense daughter grow into a confident, defiant and loving girl. Sometimes we don’t realize how quickly she’s maturing. Our conversation this evening tells me that even Ava has sensed this denial.
Ava: So Mama. Tomorrow I am going to be four and I won’t be your baby anymore.
Diya: What do you mean? Even when you are four, you will still be my baby. You’ll always be my baby.
Ava: But Mama. When I grow up I am going to be a nurse. I can’t always be your baby.
Diya: You can be a nurse and my baby.
Ava: You can’t tell other people that I am your baby when I’m grown up. Otherwise what will all the other nurses think?
Conversations like this make us foresee Ava as a teenager with more clarity than we can bear. They also make us so thankful to have this concentrated time to learn more about each other, to explore our world and grow together.
Ava has already mapped out every detail of her birthday tomorrow. She has directed the exact measurements and color of her cake and even decided exactly where to cut it. We have each been told what to wear. We’ll let you know how it goes, but we’re adamant that at the end of the day she’ll still be our baby.