You were born during a baseball game.

You decided to come on the 24th, as opposed to the 23rd which everyone else in the family has a birthday on.

You came out quiet as a mouse, scaring me half to death.

You worried me from early on with low progesterone in the first days and the crazy days in May when I was in the triage room getting shots of terbutaline and the nurses trying to be quiet about steroid shots.

But you waited and now you are 5.

Happy Birthday my crazy girl. I love you!