On your second birthday

“I am not (nor will I ever be) defined by motherhood, but I will wholeheartedly admit that motherhood has inspired and enabled me to define myself.”
Rebecca Woolf, Girls Gone Child blog. I love her for always finding the right words to explain what I’m feeling.

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Dear Baby Girl,

There is nothing “baby” about you anymore. You have learned the ability to transport yourself, feed yourself, talk for yourself and entertain yourself. I feel as if you’re a rocket ship about to launch into your own personal solar system of discovery, growth and self awareness.

You are old enough to remember things now, recalling events from weeks prior, like when the power went out and we dined and read with flashlights. I am shaken up by this milestone, as it means you are now vulnerable to events sticking with you permanently, and it makes me ever so aware that we, the people around you every day, are impacting how you see yourself and the world. That’s heavy stuff. I want only to create a sturdy framework for you to build your universe around, filling it with your own impressions, colors and opinions. But there is so much that I want for you.

More than anything, I long for you to understand how loved you are, that there’s a never-ending supply flowing to you from the best parts of so many special people. I’m hoping you’re absorbing it to carry with you for life, because sometimes a reserve supply is required to forge on.

Your presence has changed our lives, our perspectives and our hearts. You are a pure and constant reminder to live, to embrace it all, to throw our heads back with joy and scream bloody murder with pain. To do it all fully and with commitment, because there is no half-assing in toddlerhood.

You are growing up too fast, and as much as I encourage your independence, I know it leads you further down a path that isn’t mine to walk on. I understand now that even on your 56th birthday, I will still see you as my baby, and I will continue to fret and pray for you and wish and hope that only the best settles itself around you.

Thank you, simply for being you, for being my daughter, for helping me to know myself better than I ever have before. As I wrote to you on your first birthday – I love you, I love you, I love you. Words I will whisper to you ten million times throughout your life. And even as they fall from my lips for the ten millionth time, the sum of those words will not equal the depth of my love for you.

Love,

Mama

• ← Because two years ago, there was another due date
• And just like that, she’s two →