I burst into tears just now. I was driving along, just a minute from home. I was rubbing my belly pondering what a miracle it was that there was a fully grown baby inside me. That stuff never gets old. I grew a baby. It’s kinda magic.
Why the tears? I’m pregnant, so they are pretty good at just springing up on me and falling from my eyes. Hormones, I think they call it.
But there was a trigger, I thought of you. I thought of all these years we’ve been together. “You and I are sisters,” you said to me yesterday, “We have the same hair, the same skin, the same eyes, the same nose…” and you rattled off everything that’s slightly similar.
I’ll never forget that moment I became a mama. The midwife handed me your delicate little body, and I held you in my arms. Overwhelmed doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. I looked at Dadda, and we just cried. We didn’t need to talk or exchange words. We just both knew that it was momentous. You were here. Our lives had changed. We were a family.
I’m not going to say it’s all been rainbows and puppy dog tails. It’s been a ride. A bumpy ride of parenting and adventures. I know I should and could have done better. I’m not perfect. I know that you probably could have slept a whole lot more and cried a whole lot less. But we got there. And we’ve laughed along the way, and created some pretty amazing memories.
I know people say that when a new baby comes along that they can’t remember life before the baby was here. I don’t want to forget these past 5 years or have them become some sort of blur. I don’t want them to become the same for you either. I hope you remember how loved you are, and how you always will be. I want you to remember just how wonderful being a family of 3 was. And I want you to know that life as a family of 4 will be just as fun, a little different, but magic all the same.
One day I’m going to be an old lady. One day, not just yet. And we’ll sit together, you and I. Our hair will no longer be the same, I imagine mine will be an attractive shade of silver. Our skin will be different too, mine wrinkled with life and age. I know that I’ll thank you for everything, for making me a mama, the one thing I yearned for ever since I can remember. I’ll thank you for being the special little girl that made life a wonderful ride, richer and more beautiful just by you being in it.
Some day soon another baby will join us, and I might be distracted by a sweet little person who needs me more than anything, leaving little time for my big girl. But I want to always let you know that you are loved, with all my heart. My arms will always have room for you.
Thank you for making me a mama. Thank you for being your sassy little self who has challenged me beyond anything I could have imagined. Thank you for the past five years, and thank you for the so many years that we have ahead of us.
Just thank you.