I’m not really sure how to start this.

On June 10, 2011 at 3:20 p.m., I met the soul who had been quietly inhabiting my body for 9 months. She was raven-haired and furious, despite the fact that she was the one who had made the decision to exit her comforting cocoon after 38 weeks. I held her and cried and whispered, “happy birthday.”

Five years later, there are so many conflicting emotions ricocheting around in my heart that it’s hard to decide on which feeling prevails. Perhaps the closest is gratitude. She has surpassed my every hope in kindness, intellect, strength and ambition. She surprises me absolutely every day with her growth in every measure.

She lives in two separate homes, and gives equal amounts of love to us both. She has become exposed to the perils of bullying and conflict, and she learns every day how to problem solve with grace and humility. She sings like an angel and dances with the grace of Misty Copeland, maintaining equal parts femininity and tomboyish obsession with Star Wars. She is every good part of me and more than I could have dreamed.

Happy birthday, Princess Fiona Lily. You are the best thing that could have ever happened to me.