So today is my youngest daughter’s tenth birthday. She was born somewhere between 7 an 9 a.m.on February 12, 2005. I knew I was in labor the day before but was sent home by the obstetrician at the doctor’s office and then again at the hospital at 2 a.m. or so the next day. When I went back the third time, I was through being a “nice” patient and let them know just how much pain I was in. I was at 6 centimeters by the time I was admitted, and she was born just a little while later. Little did I know that her birth was going to kick off such a serious change in my life, with my postpartum depression morphing into bipolar disorder within a year.
Today she is a happy young lady involved in piano, dance, and karate. We recently discovered she has mild dyslexia and are getting her therapy for that and tutoring after school. She is easy to discipline but defnitiely has her own opinions about matters that affect her. I remember very little about her childhood, being in a heavily medicated state for most of it. She has been a shy child, which was a big change from her two big sisters. But she is beginning to blossom with lots of friends who love to come to her house and play. She does not remember me at my sickest—she was just over a year old when I had my psychotic break. I hope what she rememebers is the mom who makes cupcakes for her class on her birthday and helps her with her spelling words. Happy Birthday, Bitty Girl!