Monday, January 12, 2015
Dear Birthday Girl...
Tomorrow you are one. I am in utter disbelief. You were born the first month of one of the wildest years of my life and at times it seems I blinked and you were no longer that tiny little baby anymore. Yet, it seems we've conquered a mountain, this year, and while I'd give just about anything to transport back to that hospital bed just to hold your little self for a second or two, to be wrapped in the peaceful abyss of that hospital room, I am so proud of how far we've come this year. We've made it - through the worry and anxiety of going from one to two, through the stress of packing and selling our home, through the move to grandma and grandpa's, and soon, through the long, yawning process of building a new home. And meanwhile, we've been watching you, smiling at your sweetness, laughing at your fiestiness, and falling more in love with you every day this year. You have stolen our hearts, livened up our spirits, and exhausted our bodies completely with your sweet, vivacious, and passionate personality and we wouldn't have it any other way.
Last night, we watched the Golden Globe Awards and I couldn't help but think back to one year ago. The Golden Globes were on in our bedroom and I was putting the final supplies in our hospital bag, folding a load of Beau's socks, and thinking about my little boy tucked in upstairs and that it was the last night I would be a mommy to just one. As I tried to concentrate on a normal night of popcorn, an awards show, and my favorite blanket, my night was anything but normal as I was thinking and dreaming about meeting you the very next day. I was worried about being induced, wondering what the following day would involve before meeting you, and praying you were healthy, safe, and ready for the world that awaited you. And deep down, I worried about whether I was ready for you, ready to step foot on the demanding but incredibly rewarding journey of motherhood, this time raising a little lady who I feared would be a lot like me. The world as I knew it was about to change and I was excited and fearful all at the same time.
And then, a little after 5:00 on Monday, January 13th, they put you in my arms and my heart was changed forever. You came easy and looked like a smaller, more feminine version of your brother. The nurses we had gotten to know throughout the day were all off at 5, but most of them stuck around to meet you and between them, the new nurses, and Dr. Hines who just about missed your birth, we had quite the audience present for your arrival. It was like a party in there, we were laughing, cracking jokes, and all flaunting over you, saying you looked like a little baby doll with your tiny lips pierced so daintily and your long fingers up by your face. You slept like an angel baby the first night and we used ice cubes on your feet in order to wake you up to eat. You got the message and screamed your way through most of your second night, proving right then and there that you would indeed keep us on our toes. Sugar and spice, since the day you were born. :)
Your middle name means love in Welsh and grace in Greek and you have taught us abundant lessons in both this year. The love that exists in that little gap-toothed grin of yours melts me every time you smile and your open-mouthed kisses are my absolute favorite. And the grace of a Savior who formed you at just the right time, who stayed by our side through this hectic year, and provided support, wisdom, and a continual source of laughter amidst change, stress, and decisions, well, we owe it all to Him. I thank Him for making me your mama and giving us such a good, crazy year. He knew I needed a little lady to keep me on my toes, and that you have, every day since.
Happy One, Mila Carys. I love you, I love you, I love you.