You were always a strong spirit. The first time I met you, you were an elbow pushing against my sister's stomach in time to country music, happy after a red chile enchilada dinner. You were a strong baby, even then, forged in the fires of love and hot yoga.
I witnessed your strength again as you pushed your way into this world, the monitor showing your accelerated heart rate each time you were about to take another step into the unknown. Even the nurses were in awe of your strength as you kicked and wiggled and moved your head a little. Yes, you are my sister's daughter.
I tried to remember your strength again as I held you for the first time. Yet when you were in my arms, I could only feel how small you were, how tiny and soft and new. I did not want to squeeze you too hard, although I was full to bursting with love. Once again you reminded me that you would be no fragile flower: your longer fingers, so perfectly formed down to the fingernails, latched onto my index finger and squeezed hard. Your grip was firm; now here is a woman unafraid of her strength.
Here we are, I wanted to tell you, creating our first memories together. Here we are getting to know one another. This memory will be distilled with time and crystallized in love. With more to follow.
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