She is awesome.
Right now she is sitting up at the table poking at her neon pink leftover cupcakes from her little party yesterday, drinking her brothers juice on the sly and grinning at me, all sweet and sugar.
Slyly, sweet and sugar.
That is my girl.
She is fearless. She is happy. She is funny.
She also cares about people. Yesterday at her party her cousin started crying and she stopped opening her presents and wouldn’t stop until she knew he was okay. That is pretty cool for a two year old.
Right now two years ago I was thinking she would be born any minute. She came hours and hours later. Her birth was hard. But it was redeeming. Her brother was born by c-section. After a “stalled” labor because of how he was positioned. The doctor said they would let me “try” to have a VBAC. I said, to heck with that and found some beautiful midwives with experience and love and warmth and learned to believe in my body and myself again. Or for the first time.
She was lifted onto my chest that snowy afternoon, with the fire crackling and faces of dada and grandma and auntie and midwife angels smiling down.
She is blonde! I was surprised by this. Her brother had jet black hair at birth, big grey eyes that darkened into brown. She opened her eyes and peeked at me. Bright blue. Oh, hi Mama.
She laid there. No yelping or crying. Peaceful. Nursing. Looking at each other.
And I was in love, again.
My girl. Now you are grown up. Such a big girl. You love shoes. Babies. And anything your big brother does. When he isn’t around you secretly play with his knight and castles. You twirl in your skirts and stomp in your boots. You smile and we melt.
Thank you for coming to us. We adore you.