… my oldest daughter, Jordyn, was born.
The birth experience was traumatic, and if my bride were willing, she could share it in schools as a means of preventing teenage pregnancy. But once the child was here… the adventure began.
I remember watching as they cleaned her up. It took a while, but she started to look less like a lizard and more like a baby. I remember counting fingers and toes and checking to make sure that everything was in the right place. I started at the top of her little cone-shaped head and worked my way down. When I reached her toes, I noticed that she had toes like mine.
All my life, the middle toe on my left foot has had a tendency to rest beneath the bigger toe right next to it. When I was little, my mother called it my bashful toe and told me that it was just a little shy. To be honest, I had not thought about that toe being bashful for years before that day five years ago.
As a I gazed at my perfect daughter, I noticed that the middle toe on her left foot was a little bit bashful… it was trying to hide beneath the bigger toe right next to it. Seeing it made me smile just little bigger.
We took that little girl to Birmingham this morning. She got to go to the Build a Bear Workshop where she made a pink poodle who is now wearing pink pajamas and sleeping in a pink bed. I am not sure where the past five years went, but I don’t have a baby anymore. I have a little girl…
… a little girl with a bashful toe on her left foot.