I believe love wins. I believe in backyard chickens. I believe in pink (all shades and on any complexion). I believe in fairness. And I really believe in Coco Chanel.

But, I don’t believe in coincidences. It’s no mistake that in nine years I was blessed with four amazing little souls. All four of you chose me to be your Mom. And, for that I thank you. Thank you for giving me the gift of a lifetime—four times over. Thank you for giving me purpose when directions were never my strong suit (my personal GPS). Thank you for helping me realize that I actually deserve to be loved and therefore can love others unconditionally without limitations. Thank you for making me realize I’m actually a hugger! And, pretty darn good at it. And finally, thank you for making me realize that I really can have it all. You gave me everything I’ve ever wanted and never thought I’d have. I can’t stop smiling at how amazing it is.

Liam, you came first. You were perfect in every way. You cried so little and slept so much—I constantly checked to see if you were still breathing. I must have shaken you (gently) awake 3-5 times a night for the first 2 months. Sorry about that! You were so quiet and sweet and immediately made it clear you were a Daddy’s boy! I was a little bummed, but determined to win the next one over.

Then came my Stella. The daughter I always dreamt about having but was scared shitless of. It’s no secret that my own mother and I grew up with an interestingly complicated mother-daughter dynamic, one that ultimately drove us apart, off and on, for most of my adult life. It’s a relationship I carry regrets and sadness for—I have an ideal picture in my head of what I want and need from my mom but will never get.

But from the moment Stella Doreen was born (screaming all the way) and placed in my arms, all of my nerves about being the mom to a girl quickly dissipated. The moment we made eye contact and she held onto my pinky with her whole hand, I knew I was in trouble. I knew from that moment on that she would be able to ask anything of me and I would never be able to say no. Baby Stella was my kryptonite. She still is 8 years later! She’s also my best friend, and we hold hands everywhere we go. I tell her she better be 20 still wanting to hold mommy’s hand.

There was a momentary break in our baby-making farm till sweet Hattie came three years later. Just when we had gotten used to having two small little ones and doing everything as a foursome, boom—I started puking everywhere. Yep, I was preggers again with Hattie Cat. This time, having had one of each already—a boy and a girl—I decided to leave it up to fate. So I didn’t find out the sex of my third baby till the day my baby was born.

Now during the pregnancy, there were a lot of opinions! And everyone—except my mom—thought I was having a boy, from my usual family psychic to the valet at my bank chain, who always insisted on rubbing my “boy” belly every time he saw me. (Ultimately, I decided to switch banks. I didn’t like the butter mints they had there anyway.)

But Hattie was hardly a boy. She came out screaming and hasn’t stopped yet! She’s by far the loudest, bossiest, and cutest damn “princess” you’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s sassy and dramatic and was barely three years old the first time she called me a nerd, told me she hated me, and then stormed off and slammed the door to her bedroom.

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