My Dearest Baby Girl,
Today is your birthday, and if I could give you any gift in the world I would choose just one. I wouldn’t put you on a sailing ship to travel to exotic, beautiful lands. Though the world has so many wondrous places to see, what I wish for you could be found far easier than booking international travel.
I wouldn’t go to the finest jewelers, asking for gold, diamonds, or jewels to fashion you a crown. The gift I have is far more precious to me than any treasure you would find around here, or even in any of your far-off travels. It would be priceless you see.
I wouldn’t gather the finest fabrics and most sought after designers to make you a wardrobe so glamorous and becoming. Although I think you’re a little princess and worthy of royal attire, I have something far finer for my young lady.
I wouldn’t pour a mound of funds into an Ivy League school for your educational benefit. Although I can see you’re so brilliant and eager to learn, some things go beyond what you can be taught on a college campus.
No, none of these things would I offer to you. I have something far greater I would wish to give on this, your special day, and every day that follows.
You see my child, I remember before you came. I remember wanting you so badly, and planning for your conception. We made changes, made plans, we prayed. I was so ready to add you to our little family. But then, when I realized that yes, you were going to join us, well, I became a little scared. I was afraid I couldn’t be what you needed me to be, what you deserved. I had birthed one daughter already, and I was so in love with her! The thought of doing it again… Well, it was inconceivable. (In my mind only thank The Lord.)
I am going to be honest with you baby. I was truly apprehensive. I just didn’t know if I could love you as much as I loved your sister. My tiny brain couldn’t fathom such an idea. I couldn’t wrap my thoughts around how I could love another child as much as my first. I just didn’t see it happening. I resigned myself to the idea that I would just have to do my best and not let you know where my affections failed you.
But then you came, and boy was I surprised! My mind replayed an image from the cartoon classic, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, where his heart grows and grows and grows. This was the only explanation I could think of for my feelings for you. My heart had to of doubled, heck, quadrupled in size. That was the only way it could contain the immense love and adoration I felt when I cradled your tiny newborn body to my chest, when I smelled your hair, when I kissed your toes, or brushed my hand against your soft, pink cheeks. I was in love. Again.
But then I got scared again. I feared I was failing you. There were two of you, but only one of me. I wanted to give you everything, every part of my time and attention. I worried I wasn’t giving enough, and that you would be scarred for life, and grow up an ax murderer or something. When you sat in the padded room with the court appointed psychiatrist and he asked you why you stuck their heads in those huge pickle jars, you would reply, “My Mom never had time to hold me.”
By this time I began to question my desires for a big family. I wasn’t even sure if I was doing right by you. But then you smiled, and you never stopped. I had never seen a baby smile so much. You never cried when I had to put you down, but you always smiled when I scooped you up.
You taught me that I was okay, that I was doing alright. You showed me grace when I didn’t even think I deserved it.
If I could give you one gift, something that would never fade, lose it’s value, or end, it would be the realization of what your arrival did to my life. If I could somehow lasso the changes your birth and life made to my heart, I would capture them for you. I would put them in a velvet box and tie it together with a shiny bow.
The contents of that box would tell you that you are loved. You are loved so very much, and what that love did to me is irreversible. You changed me. You cultivated me. You lifted your old momma up. Even as I trudged through this first year, questioning myself at times, my abilities, how it was impacting you, you just kept smiling at me.
I would wrap your precious gift up in the knowledge that you are a blessing to not just me, but to everyone your sweet smile encounters. You are also, and forever, a blessing to your Creator, Almighty God. I can rest easier knowing that if I do fail you, He will not. He will always be there, holding you when I am unable, comforting you when I cannot, wiping your tears when I have left this earth.
That is what I would give you my child. The gift of never forgetting,
You are loved.
By me.
By so many.
And Always by Your Heavenly Father.
Thank you for changing Mommy’s life, now and forever.
Love Always,
Momma