How do I start this letter? I wanted to write you a letter for every birthday, but for many reasons I am just starting now. I wish I had written to you when you were a baby and you completely filled my world. I needed you and loved you more than you will ever know, and you filled my days with some of the most intense highs and lows I've known. The highs were from so many of the little interactions that you can only have with getting to know your first baby - the little noises you made when you were exploring your sounds, the gummy smiles you gave me throughout the day, the love squeezes from your tiny hands and arms, and the warm, heavy feel of a completely content baby who has just fallen asleep at the breast. The lows were not from anything you did, but from my struggles to give you what you needed. It was hard to understand you sometimes, and you had intense emotions, even as a baby. I wanted so badly to fix whatever was wrong each time you cried so hard that you would almost stop breathing or when you had your first big cold and I watched you every minute for days, feeling almost like I might lose you (but it really wasn't that bad). But I couldn't always fix everything, and I felt awful because of it. I know now that it was okay for me to not be able to fix everything, but at the time I really thought I should be able to.
I wish I had written to you when you were one year old and such a happy, inquisitive little person, growing and learning so fast. You were my little buddy, and we went everywhere and did everything together. We still liked to be really close to each other, so I wore you in my sling a lot. You started walking shortly after your first birthday, but you've always loved to be carried. We would go to the splash area at the zoo and play in the water, or go on the carousel at the mall, or have a peaceful time at the aquarium, or hang around at home and play with scarves, read books, or do sidewalk chalk. I don't remember exactly when you said it, but sometime when you were one you started saying "Mama," and it made my heart melt. You nursed really well, and also ate well, exploring new foods all the time. We cuddled a lot before your naps and bedtime. Even though I started having some health issues during that time, my time with you made me forget about the hard things, and in a way, you were my little rock.
I wish I had written to you when you were two and talking up a storm. You had started "school" by then, and learned to adapt to being around lots of other children, even though that was a lot of stimulation for you. You thrived in the Montessori environment and spent a lot of time figuring out little things at your own pace. I was newly pregnant when you turned two, and you knew things were changing. The year was a little tough because I had a hard time being pregnant and being the mother I wanted to you. This was the year we really experienced frustration with each other, and I didn't always do a good job understanding where you were coming from. You were excited when we explained that we were going to have a baby, but I think you were also very hesitant and unsure, and sometimes that made you want to be extra close to me at a time when I wanted space. I tried my best to remember that those days would be my last with you as my only child, and I tried to do little trips with fun treats a lot. We broke our no sugar rule because, sometimes, when the days were hard to get through, a little cupcake or ice cream was the best I could think of. You slowly stopped nursing that year, and by the middle of my last trimester you had stopped completely. I was glad we held on to that bond as long as we could, and I think we were both okay with stopping.
Now, you're almost three years old, and you're also a big sister. This change wasn't easy for you, and as much as you've been welcoming to Eleanora, you've also wanted to test us a lot to make sure we were still there for you and that you still had a secure place in our new family. I don't worry so much about whether you're interested in or want to engage with Eleanora; I know that will come in time. I do feel sad, sometimes, that you feel pushed aside at times, or that you're not as important as you once were. Let me tell you with fierce certainty that you are. Without you I wouldn't look at the world in quite the same way; it would be boring and many parts of it would go unnoticed. Without you I wouldn't laugh as much or be taken by surprise at the quirky little things you say as you try to figure life out. I wouldn't have a precious little person with deep, observant eyes, a sweet little gap-toothed smile, and a strong, capable little body to constantly study throughout my day. Without you I wouldn't marvel at fantasy or creativity in nearly the same way. Without you I wouldn't be quite as challenged to make myself a better person. Mostly, I wouldn't be me without you.
You are such a bright, curious, observant, and stubborn little girl. I love all of those parts of you. You pick up on everything people say around you and you try to make sense of those words and say them yourself. You create your own vivid world of friends, adventures, and contraptions that you sometimes have a hard time stepping away from. You absolutely love family and friends and you get so excited to see them. You can also get frustrated and angry and have a hard time understanding why things are the way they are sometimes. You throw solid tantrums and test us mightily. You also ask for snuggles and offer huggies to help make things better. You still suck your thumb and cling to your blankie for comfort. You are doing a lot of work just learning how to be three years old in this world, and you remind me that I also need to do a lot of work to be the calm, firm, loving guide you need right now.
You are everything I hoped you would be and more. I love you with all my heart and I am so proud to be your mama. Happy third birthday, Evie!
2 comments:
That was a tear-jerker. The best gift shell get!
This was so sweet!!!
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