The first day of the rest of her life

My precious Maggie,

Today, Barack Obama was inaugurated as our country's 44th president. You won't yet understand the significance of this day, but throughout your lifetime I hope you will enjoy its consequences. Today, barriers were broken, barriers that had caused division and pain and blood. Today, unity triumphed -- it triumphed racially, politically, internationally. Today science triumphed. The environment triumphed. Peace triumphed. America triumphed.

We triumphed.

We watched it all unfold, all day long, you, me, and even Daddy, who took the day off work. You, dressed in your Sleeping Beauty princess dress all day, watched dignitaries stream across a TV screen, observed the most peaceful transfer of power in the world, and sat hushed on Daddy's lap during President Obama's speech, asking constantly, "Is he our president now? He's really our president?" Eventually you grew bored and ventured off the couch to play with your ponies, reaccessorize your outfit, and chase a cat. But I hope you'll look back on today and be able to say, "I remember that."

You are sleeping on me now as I write this -- you fell asleep on the couch while watching inaugural balls and refused to let Daddy carry you upstairs. Your knees are tucked in at my waist, your arms are tucked into my chest, and your head is nestled against my shoulder. As you exhale, I can feel your breath on my neck. I think about the life that's inside you and the life you have yet to lead. I hope today's events help give you a world that's more peaceful, a country that's more unified, and a personal outlook that's colorblind.

I've been excited about Obama for a long time ... four-and-a-half years, to be exact. When I heard him speak at the 2004 Democratic convention, I was pregnant with you. His words that night were almost prophetic; parents, he said, could "sense, deep in their bones, that with just a slight change in priorities, we can make sure that every child in America has a decent shot at life, and that the doors of opportunity remain open to all." He spoke of unity, all of us pledging allegiance to the same United States of America. Hope -- he spoke of hope that night -- "hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of uncertainty. The audacity of hope."

Hope is what I felt then, when I first heard those words and felt you moving inside me. And hope is what I feel now, when I think about our new president, when I see the worldwide jubilation at America's choice, when I see tears on the faces of black men and women who never thought they'd see this day, and when I sit at my computer, way past both our bedtimes, and feel your breath on my neck.