Happy birthday, Sydney!

It's weird how nostalgic I get on Sydney's birthday. I frequently find myself going over the events of that day, daydreaming about what happened, and how, really, I don't think I would have changed a moment of it. I had a wonderful pregnancy, and my labor and delivery were without complications. My kid popped out with 10 fingers, 10 toes, healthy lungs, and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen in my life. And I fell in love.
Once we got home, of course, she became remarkably more difficult -- and continues to be so, four years later -- but in looking back on that night, I get so warm and fuzzy. If I'm still, I can feel my heart skip a beat when I think about seeing her for the first time. If I'm quiet, I can still hear her first cry, and feel her weight on my chest when the nurse placed her there. If I close my eyes, I can see the delivery room, remember every detail about it, smile at the humor of Brian's amazement on how strong my contractions were, and feel the comfort in seeing Mom walk into the room right when this whole business was starting to get really serious.
I suppose the ability to conjure the entire sequence of events from the day never really goes away, does it? That's probably due to the life-altering addition to the family. Or because my priorities shifted in a blink. Or because she was awesome, from the second I met her.