Five years ago, I wrote my first xanga entry.  It was the one year anniversary of having birthed a 9 pound baby girl who refused to emerge from the womb even after 42 weeks of living there.  It was the one year anniversary of meeting my zen baby, who breastfed like a pro as oon as she was born, and slept with me that first day and night and every day thereafter.  It was the one year anniversary of being a second time parent who had finally learned that the small stuff really was small stuff.  It was the one year anniversary of falling so madly in love with another human being that it makes my eyes tear even to this day.

I knew that my second baby would be my last.  What I didn't know is that my second baby would always be my baby, and that birth order, on its own, really would make me treat my children differently.

What I didn't know is that, on the sixth anniversary of falling in love with her, I'd still stare at her and kiss her while she sleeps.  I didn't know that my life would be incomplete without her huge hugs.  I didn't know that the sound of her voice and her laugh would still make my heart dance.

My baby is six, and she's still my baby.