Dear Baby Girl

Dear Baby Girl,

As you may have noticed, I’ve fallen quite short in recording your growth as compared to your brother. I’d love to spout all the common excuses, like it’s so much harder to catch your breath when there’s two (especially when neither have napped in YEARS), but the truth is, when it comes to you, I’m speechless.

You’ve left me speechless since day one. Even as a newborn, you seemed to allow me into your life under very specific terms, and then, eh, you could take it or leave it. But you were so darn CUTE that I couldn’t help always wishing that you just WANTED me more.

I try to maintain an objective demeanor around you. After all, someone had to resist your disarmingly charming ways, because Lord knows nobody else can say no to you. But not a moment goes by that’s I don’t look at you and think, “Is she truly mine?” It seems unfathomable that you could have come from me. Even at 3, you’re gorgeous. Your eyes seem to know exactly when to be blue, green, brown, or a mixture of all three. You’ve already started digging in my makeup, and I’ve already had foreshadowing conversations with you about why you don’t need makeup.

You throw the most adorable temper tantrums I’ve ever seen. You seem to melt into the floor, your lower lip quivering and the tears pooling in your eyes. You give me every chance to relent. I want nothing more than to give you your way, because you never fail to show your gratitude with hugs, kisses, and effusive “oh, thank you!”

When we’re out, you make friends instantly, despite always asking other kids if they’d like to touch your belly button, complete with shirt held up for all to see, like adults shake hands. Other moms look at me, expecting to see pride written all over my face, and I’m sure there’s some of that, but mostly I’m just baffled. Being liked comes so naturally to you, I can’t even understand it. Your manners are impeccable, with kids and adults alike. Everyone loves you. You border on a perfection that I never dared to imagine.

I still rock you to sleep every night. It’s the only time that you let your guard down and let yourself need me. I can’t even bring myself to complain about rocking you, because I know that, soon, you won’t even need this from me, your terribly imperfect mom. I rock you, and you cling to me, and I can’t imagine a better ending to my day.

One of these days, I’ll be no more than a bystander in your life. I know this, and I can see it so clearly it makes me cling to you even more.

I know you will spread joy, my baby. Your smile and your laugh is infectious. When you see pain, you rush to help. You’re only 3, but you already have made such a difference in the world. I can’t wait to see what your future holds.