December 25, 2009
Your white tights are sitting on our coffee table, the pink toes dangling down. Three or four burp cloths are camped out in the living room. A tiny, singular sock sits on top of my book on my nightstand. Brightly colored plastic teething rings are nested on the kitchen table. My long sleeved t-shirts are stained with spit up and drool. You have left indelible prints throughout our small home in the last 5 months.
I know you - the cadence of your breath, the wrinkles in your thighs, the shape of your button nose, the softness of your skin, and your sweet scent are forever engraved into my brain. I can’t believe you won’t remember any of this, but I will remember it for both of us and try to tuck these memories away for you. If you take anything from these letters, please let it be that you are totally and completely, unconditionally and infinitely loved. You have filled my heart when I didn’t realize it was empty. Every part of me knows that I was meant to be your mom.
You continue to grow and develop (you can roll over and now eat rice cereal!) - all at a rate of speed I am wholly uncomfortable with. You have changed from our tiny newborn to our sweet baby girl, and it appears that you’re on your way to becoming a darling toddler, a charming young lady, and a beautiful woman. Everything changed on August 5, 2009; our home became messier, our schedules became busier, and our lives became more complicated but...
our lives became substantially more defined, more colorful and more full of love than ever imagined.
I am writing this letter early (on Christmas) - you are the greatest gift I could have ever been given. You are proof positive that prayers are answered. “I prayed for this child, and the Lord answered my prayer. The Lord gave me this child.” 1 Samuel 1:27
You are the sun, the moon and the stars in my sky.