On this, perhaps the eve of my motherhood . . .

I think of the daughter whose name I may hear for the first time tomorrow.

I think of my scared precious girl, bundled tightly, posed for her first photos, in a walker, perhaps, not knowing the arms that will embrace her in a few short months.

I think of her wary eyes, surveying this woman's braid, that man's scratchy goatee, and both with strange hair, strange eyes, strange smells.

I think of whispering into the folds of her sweet babyneck, "It's ok to be scared, amazing girl." Its ok to cry when nothing in your short life has been in your control.

And when you cry, sweet girl, hold on to me, and I'll sing to you.

And together, we'll find our way . . .