“Mommy,” a little voice called. “Mommy, I had a good dream.”
“You did? Well come on up with mommy and see if you can dream some more,” I replied, reaching through the dark to lift her up into bed beside me.
Within minutes, she was asleep, hand fisted in my hair. But I lay awake, thinking of how fast the time has flown.
Three years ago today, on a much more blustery morning, I was wheeled into surgery. When an impossibly short time later I heard her first cry, I burst into tears myself.
My heart shattered that day, unable to contain the love within it. But it was only the first of many earthquakes.
It shook anew the first time I cuddled her close. And the first time she smiled. It swelled with pride when she rolled over for the first time, erupted with joy when she spoke her first words and straight up leapt out of my chest the first time she walked.
Every day is a new adventure—some good, some bad. At times, I get so frustrated I feel like screaming (and sometimes do). Other times, she makes me laugh so hard, I think my ribs might crack.
Always, she’s a wonder to me.
And when I think about the incredible little person she’s becoming, I’m proud to call her mine.
She’s doing amazing things—writing her name, spinning stories, even learning to read.
But my favorite moments are still the little ones. Like last night, when she sat curled up in her daddy’s lap, listening to him read her a Curious George story.
And this morning, when she wrapped her arms around my neck and sleepily murmured, “my mommy.”
Yes, baby. I’ll always be your mommy.
And you? Will always be my sunshine.
Happy Birthday, princess.