Two

My baby, my angel, my sweet little girl. Today, you turn two. At this time two years ago, your brothers were getting ready to meet you for the first time. You were a much anticipated addition to our family, the finishing touch on our beautiful portrait of love. I cherished my pregnancy with you. Amidst the nausea, the insomnia, the fatigue, and the general aches and pains of pregnancy, I knew it would be my last. I held you close in my womb, and was simultaneously reluctant to part with you, yet undeniably eager to hold you in my arms and to feel your warmth against my chest.



In two years, you have grown into a beautiful, charming little girl. You are still my baby. Perhaps you will always be my baby. Your tiny stature doesn't help your case there, today you tip the scales at slightly less than 26 pounds, and still fit comfortably in the curve of my arm and on my hip. You have recently started running, and trying to jump. Your words are getting more plentiful, and have been strung together many times into sentences. You're passionate. You make your wants and your desires known. Loudly. Emphatically. Theatrically, at times.



I delight in your emerging abilities and independence, and mourn the passage of days past. For so many reasons, leaving your babyhood behind means leaving behind a life that used to be ours. I wish, so much, that your Daddy could see you today. I wonder what kind of relationship the two of you would have had. I wonder if he would have been able to be tough with you, like he was with your brothers when they warranted it, or if he would have been putty in your capable hands, leaving me to mete out the discipline. I search within you for glimpses of him, knowing that if they are there, they will be present purely through the genetic link that you share with him.



You are right handed, my angel. I hoped against hope that you would pick up my recessive gene and join the ranks of lefties, but you foil me. Your eyes share the same gorgeous blue of your oldest brother, your hair the same golden shade. You are undeniably beautiful, but the spirit shining through your eyes intensifies what your body has given you.


I'm so grateful to have you, Brooklyn. It look me a long time to decide I wanted a daughter, so immersed I was in all things boy, but you have been a balm to my soul. When the ache of missing and longing, wishing and dreaming, in the last 18 months has become too intense, I have gathered you closer to me. I hope I haven't placed too heavy a burden on you, sweetheart. You glisten with happiness today. You shimmer with promises of greatness, and the possibilities of the life you have ahead of you.

Thank you for letting me mother you. Thank you for coming into my life and enriching it. We are all blessed to have you part of us. Watching your older brothers interact with you has been an education in tolerance and love. They are alternately irritable with a pesky and meddlesome little sister, and tender of her feelings and desires. To watch you gleefully wrap your arms around them when they get home from school, and the concerned look in your eyes when they walk away from you warms my heart from top to bottom, and back again.

I love you, Princess. Happy Birthday.