Today is Rosie’s 7^th birthday. My darling, sweet daughter is 7. Lucky number 7.

In some ways, when she came into my life…I didn’t feel ready. I was young; I hadn’t been married as long as I felt necessary before bringing a child into the family equation. I wasn’t sure if I was “grown up” enough to be a mother. But being a mother has helped me “grow up” in ways I’d never expected, nor could have experienced without her.

From her earliest days (i.e. 5 days old) she was thrust into an environment of people who love and adore her. I was unable to care for her as the grips of death tried to beckon me near. As I nearly succumbed to the illness that almost left her motherless, she was taken in by extended family, friends, and ward members. Her happy temperament has instantly endeared many people to her since this time.

Rosie is friendly, empathetic and caring. She seeks out the sad and shy kids and brings them into her circle. She has consoled me on nights that I’ve been sick, depressed, lonely, stressed, and hopeless. We haven’t had the “typical” family life, dealing with divorce, remarriage, and now a loving husband/father that lives on the other side of the country. But out of these trials and experiences, our bond has grown so strong.

We’re buddies. We’re pals. We’re partners.

She has a zest for life. She scatters happiness and hope everywhere she goes. She has a quick wit and infectious smile. She’s willing to try new things. She tries to act grown up, but then her streak of silliness will remind me that she’s 20 years younger than me.

And she’s beautiful, adorable, cute, and lovely. I could look at her all day. But she rarely sits still long enough for me to keep a close eye on her. But that’s okay, because I want her influence spread around for all to enjoy.

I’m a lucky mom.