In the dark, early morning hours of November 7, 1992, it was snowing on the way to the hospital, and I was glad. I watched the snow fall outside my hospital window all morning until I finally became too distracted.
I actually chose my daughter's birthdate because she was overdue. Why the 7th? I like 7 way better than 6 or 8! But the 7th fell on a Saturday, and my doctor liked playing tennis on Saturday mornings way better than delivering his millionth baby. He acquiesced, though, and to this day I'm not sure why he agreed to it. Maybe because this same doctor delivered me 30 years and one month before this date.
I named my baby Kristin "with an 'i'" after my best friend, whom everyone just calls "Kris." I named her Brynn because when I was a teenager, I watched a soap opera with a star whose real-life name was Brynn Thayer. So she was Kristin Brynn, and my brother immediately called her "Raisin Bran."
She was the sweetest most beautiful baby. And by the time she was pre-school age, she looked just the American Girls Samantha doll, little gapped teeth and all. Her hair finally grew so long it was unmanageable, so I cut it just before kindergarten, as you see in this pic.
When her brother, 3, and her sister, 6, came to visit us in the hospital, we had the camcorder going, and Katie noticed our car keys on the bed. She said with great drama, "Better not let her get a hold of those keys!" I laughed and said something like, "Do you think she might try to drive away from us?"
Well, the poignancy of that moment is not lost on me now. This girl is chomping at the bit to get a hold of those keys and drive away from us. She has the manual. As of today, she has the birthday. It's only a matter of time.
Kristin, if you're reading this someday when you're older, just know that I could write a thousand words here and never even begin to tell you what you mean to me. You are the emobdiment of my vulnerable heart walking around outside my body. You are beautiful and sweet and funny and smart and talented, and I treasure those aspects about you. But always remember that I don't love you because of the way you look or perform or for any other reason than because you are my precious daughter. And not a thousand words, or a thousand miles, or a thousand years could ever change that.
Happy Sweet 16th. Love, Mom
OK, you must indulge me. The first is only 1:11, and the 2nd is only 30 secs.
That is her best friend in the dog suit.
"A Thousand Miles"