A powerful prediction, spoken like fact, seemed to drop out of nowhere during a random conversation my husband and I were having months into our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend: “Lorrie, I was thinking…we would make some pretty babies.”

Did I hear him right? Sure, we’d met each other’s friends and family and were certainly a couple, but predicting parenthood? WOW. “What makes you say that CJ?”
“I’m just saying—you’re a pretty lady, I’m a good-looking guy and if we had kids, they’d be some real cutie pies.”

Crickets.

I remember responding with a non-committal “Hmmm” and quickly changing the subject, but that early hunch became fact: Seven years ago yesterday, on a balmy spring night, our firstborn daughter Nia arrived. And last weekend, as a house full of people gathered around the birthday girl to join in celebrating the milestone, I marveled at how much Nia’s grown and how profoundly she’s changed our lives.

Before she came along, Darius was a lonely boy who yearned for a sibling to play with, I was the only woman in the household and Calvin wondered what fatherhood would be like. The moment that we learned that a baby was on the way, our home was buzzing with new anticipation and excitement. We went to childbirth classes, toured the maternity ward and discussed baby names. We were happy to learn that, after a frustrating ‘now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t’ ultrasound visit, the name I’d always wanted to bestow upon a future daughter, ‘Nia,’ would now certainly fit.

The impending birth of our baby girl not only gave us a new generation to look forward to, it also demonstrated the depth and dimension of affection that Calvin had for his new family. His days off could’ve been used to sleep in, but instead, he would greet me with breakfast in bed, take his stepson Darius to and from school and handle daily tasks whenever there wasn’t a doctor’s appointment to keep. The one time I was admitted to the emergency room before the due date, after the rotavirus had me dehydrated, he refused to leave our side.

Raising a boy in my 20s and the first of two girls in my 30s has definitely been a challenge. The “mean girls” of my adolescence appear to be getting a jump start in kindergarten these days and the world is filled with dangers and dilemmas that I never dreamt of experiencing at her age. But that doesn’t mean that Mama isn’t there to help guide her through burgeoning womanhood and the trials and truths that never seem to change no matter what century we happen to be in or what technologies we apply to our daily living.

Nia is a smart, sassy and sweet little girl with her father’s features, my thick hair and dark eyes and possesses an innate ability to perform. She admires her big brother, adores baby sister, enjoys reading and music and cherishes the time with family and friends. For every relentless barrage of questions and whining tug-of-war over toys and TV time, there’s a pride-inducing dance recital, a silly story that she’s made up or an infectious giggle that fills our ears and hearts with joy.

As of now, the birthday cake is gone, the gift bags are empty and the cards are stashed away from her memory book. But everyday that passes gives us the gift of watching our daughter blossom, take what we endow her with into a new millenium and reinforces just how right Calvin’s early prophecy has actually become.