Lucky number seven— it’s so hard to believe you’re seven today. Feels like just yesterday that I found out that you were with me. It plays back so crystal clear in my mind, one of my most favorite memories— EVER. The pink line on the pregnancy test was ever so faint, almost translucent, so difficult to distinguish, I had to squint just to kind of see it. Your Dad— I can’t help but to laugh at his reaction, “That can’t mean you’re really, REALLY pregnant.” Oh— but it can, & it did. According to Google, I was likely about two & half to three weeks “along,” & you were apparently the size of a “poppy seed.” Reading that little fun fact brought happy-tears to my eyes. Our family had called our grandfather Poppy. I loved my grandfather. He was always there for me, stuck up for me, wanted what was best for me, & I always felt so safe with him. So— reading that you were the size of a poppy seed seemed like a sign from him, a sweet little message to let me know that he was still “here,” a good omen, & trust me, Cody-kid— it was. I am forever grateful of your existence, forever honored & proud to get to be your mother. Seeing the world through your emerald eyes is amazingly beautiful, & a true gift. Your perspective— so unique, & unmatched. Although, right now, you tend to roll your eyes a bit at the idea of my poetry— I hope, one day, maybe, you’ll read over my work, & acknowledge it as a gift to you, hoping your heart will feel how mine did as I wrote this, so incredibly full of joy, happiness, & love.