Fourteen

Siena turns 14 on Monday. Fourteen.

It feels impossible and perfectly timed all at once. I blink and I still see the little girl sitting quietly at the table on the patio on the day we met—so still, so guarded, so heartbreakingly mature for a seven-year-old. And now here she is, blooming into this strong, sensitive, beautiful young woman with the same quiet depth in her eyes.

I find myself flooded with memories. Her first birthday with us when she turned 9 —the Beauty and the Beast ice cream cake, the way she quietly watched us sing to her, unsure if it was safe to smile too much. Back then, she didn’t know if this new life would last. But here we are celebrating her turning 14.

I think of her so often as a mirror. Not just a reflection of myself at that age—but a better version with better opportunities in life. A chance to offer her the security I longed for, the stability I never had. I know sometimes I overcorrect. I replay our conversations, overanalyze whether I said too much or too little, wonder if she really feels seen, heard, protected. I know she doesn’t always understand the why behind my caution, my hovering. But it’s because I see so much of myself in her… and I want her to have what I didn’t. Not just in opportunities, but in the deep-down sense of being truly known and deeply loved.

She is introspective—just like I was. Full of thoughts and emotions that go far beyond her years. And like me, she’s hesitant to ask for love and affection. Not because she doesn’t crave it, but because it’s hard to know how to open that part of yourself when life has taught you to keep it guarded.

But she’s opening more. Blooming. Her smile comes easier now. When she lets her guard down, she’s witty, clever, full of sass in the best way. She’s strong in spirit, hardworking, and capable. I see her wrestle with things I know too well — wanting to belong, but also not wanting to be fake just to fit in. Wanting to grow up but still craving childhood comforts. Wanting to do it all herself but still needing that soft place to land.

She makes mistakes. She tests limits. She’s alive, trying, figuring it out. She’s navigating her story her way. And I’m here, cheering her on and learning how to mother her in a way that nurtures her spirit, not just manages her behavior.

My birthday wish for her this year is simple: I hope she learns to see herself through the eyes of those who love her, but especially through God’s eyes. To see that she is not broken but is a beautiful child of God. I pray for her to be courageous and kind. To grow in wisdom leaning not on her own understanding, but on God’s Word. To know that she is allowed to make mistakes and still be deeply loved. She is allowed to take up space. She is allowed to grow at her own pace.

So today we’ll sing to her. We’ll eat cake and laugh and try to make her feel as celebrated as she deserves. And I’ll whisper the same prayer I’ve whispered every year since she came home:

“God, give her strength for the path ahead. Give her joy. Heal the wounds I can’t reach. And thank You for the privilege of being her mom.”

Happy birthday, Siena. You are a light in this world.