It seems that you haven’t just left dainty smudges all over every reflective surface in our house – you’ve also left them all over my heart.
When I first met you, Lila – we clicked.
After a somewhat eventful not-as-planned delivery, the doctor held you near me and I remember thinking, “She’s here.”
[insert contented, happy sigh…]
Then when I got to really inspect you – your fingers (your Grandma’s), your toes, your nose (mine!), those eyes (your Grandpa’s), those lips (your Daddy’s)… I truly thought, “There is no more perfect baby than this. Truly. She’s perfect.”
And you are.
Now, I suppose that’s what all Mommies think. In fact, my Mom told me that when she was in the hospital after having delivered me she introduced me to her sisters and asked, “Isn’t she beautiful?!?” and they saw the truth: I looked like a spider monkey. But they nodded and said, “Yes, she is.”
(That’s what good sisters do.)
With you? There’s no spider monkey. You were perfect from the get.
They say that there’s really no way that you can ever prepare for parenthood, and as annoying as it is when these sentiments prove to be true, well… it’s true.
The day we took you home I remember thinking. “Ok. Let’s do this. I’m this little lady’s Mommy. He’s her Daddy. That’s her dog. We’re a family. We can do this.”
I think I speak for your Daddy when I say we had no idea that we had the capacity to love someone as much as we love you.
Quite honestly, up until you were born – babies BORED me.
“Yep, oh? She’s sitting up now? Great…”
“Oh, really, she’s eating solid food? That’s awesome…”
“Oh, wow. She sleeps through the night? Fantastic…”
The last thing I ever truthfully wanted to do was to talk about someone else’s baby.
But now I get it…
…because I have you.
In fact, I’ve written updates about your life for the past 52 weeks because that’s how much I like talking about you and because that’s how proud I am of you.
Being your Mommy was worth the wait.
You came into our lives, into my life, at exactly the right momentito.
You showed up when you were supposed to. Not one moment before.
Those first weeks were tough. But I’d do them all over again just to hold you as that little 6.5 lb. swaddled peanut. And smell your baby smell and baby breath.
I’d stay up all hours of the night again just to repeatedly make sure you were breathing.
I’d even take the evenings that I spent pacing and crying right along with you all over again.
You’re worth it. Baby girl, you’re worth it.
Watching you grow has been incredible. You literally have grown faster than a chia pet.
Every time I blink you’ve reached a new milestone – it’s amazing.
And I enjoy you.
I mean, I really like being around you. You’re fun. You make me laugh. And, I think you may end up being a snuggler after all…
Your personality is presenting itself more and more each day and I can’t help but nearly fall out of my chair each time you crinkle that face and give me a giggle.
And then there’s you and your Daddy.
You and your Daddy are quite a pair. Something happened the day you were born. It’s like he was made to be your Daddy; and you were made to be his baby girl. The way he swaddled you and held you like a little, teeny pink football in the hospital melted my heart.
You know whenever you smile at him he shakes his head and says out loud, “It’s too much.” And I think I know what he means.
He means that we love you so much.
You’re too precious to us.
And there are just no words to describe how “full” our lives are now that you’re here.
Lila, being your mommy has been one of the greatest honors of my life.
I wrote a little something to you back when you were still in my belly, before I even knew how cool you’d be.
I’m hopeful for what kind of woman you’ll be. I hope you’re strong and courageous with an ability to laugh at yourself and the world when life gets overwhelming. I hope that you draw your strength from your faith.
I hope you’re as calm and knowledgeable and as sensible as your Dad. I hope you’re socially aware, yet not easily swayed by popular opinion. I hope you’re unique and that you value honesty, kindness, sincerity and trustworthiness.
I hope you are happy.
I hope at the end of the each day, you’ll be able to rest your sweet head and be content with who you are. I hope that you find a counterpart, a husband, who loves and treasures you, but most of all is your best friend.
I hope that one day, you’ll be sitting in your bed at 28 weeks pregnant writing to your yet-to-be-born child. It’s the most humbling and blessed gift ever.
I love you so much already.
And Lila, it’s true. You’re the most humbling and blessed gift ever.
Happy, happy birthday Lila. I’ve never meant it more: I am so glad that you were born.