Two years you've been here now. Don't worry, I added correctly, there was a leap year in there too.
If I had one moment in my life to live over again, it would be the day you were born. I guess that is more than a moment, though. Somehow, in my memory, I can conjure it all up simultaneously. The shock, the craziness, your sweet sweet face. Holding your warm, wet little body in the car, the cold, foggy night, the ride in the ambulance, the moment we arrived. They took you away from me...I don't remember that moment. I can't place the face of the nurse. I just know I tried to cry but I couldn't. I wanted to, but I just didn't have the strength. I remember it was a long time until I was allowed to hold you again. But we spent the first night together, you didn't even have a diaper on, but I didn't care. You were snoring. The sweetest, most beautiful little snore. You smiled even. People might not believe that, but I took a picture of it. I can prove it. My sweet newborn, amist all the chaos surrounding her, smiled in her sleep as I stared at her. As if you knew, you were in on the joke. All that craziness, all the drama, and the local fame. I think it was part of your little plan. And I love you immensely for that. I learned more about parenting in that day than any other. That children, will never, ever be predictable. That they don't follow rules, or plans. And after a long day of craziness that would drive any adult to the brink of insanity, they will close their eyes and smile.
These two years have been amazing. You're so much fun, so loving and affectionate. You still spend most of the night sleeping beside us, asking constantly to "snuggle Mommy, snuggle Daddy". You love animals so much. How many times I've been able to distract you, mid-tantrum, to look at a dog or cat, or when I'm really desperate, a bird...real or imaginary. I think I've thrown a few insects in there too, just for good measure.
I love the sound of your voice. The sweetness of your little lisp. The way you pause for a long time in between words. I'm not sure if it is for emphasis, or if you are really thinking about what you are about to say. You certainly didn't inherit that gift from either of your parents. I love how you ask us " mommy, daddy, wassa madder?" When you know your sister is being disciplined. You tell me immediately that you love me when you misbehave. Only two, and you are so smart.
I love staring at your eloquent profile, especially first thing in the morning. I love the crinkles of your sleep swollen eyes. I love watching the light reflect off your skin in the most beautiful glow no model could ever fake, no matter how much make-up or photoshopping is done. I love your perfect smile, your straight little white teeth, but most of all I love your one special tooth, a fused tooth, as they call it. I love how it adds more humor to your smile. I am completely helpless in the presence of that smile. A smile that makes your smooth skinned cheeks swell with happiness, I could touch and kiss those cheeks for hours and never tire of the feeling.
You love your sister so much, I ache when you hug each other, call out for each other, say your good nights and "I love yous". As much as you love your big sister and older cousin, you're not currently a fan of babies. Perhaps you are too in love with the fact that you are my baby, even your teachers at school have commented on how territorial you are. I nod and listen, but I am smiling so hard inside it takes all my strength not to let it show. My beautiful little independent girl, so strong minded, so determined, so much like mommy.
You are demanding, but in such a cute way I doubt I will ever be able to resist your requests. My sensitive girl, whenever you get scolded, you tend to cry and beg for hugs, with I am helpless to resist. Most children may run from their parents, when they are angry with them. You ruin into our arms every time. You demand so much love I sometimes doubt my ability to give you all you deserve.
People still stop us on the street, to comment on your beauty. Many small children look alike, but the reason we get stopped is because you are so unique. Your dark, gilded hair, the furrowed brows that frame your unbelievable blue eyes. So unique it prompted even our pediatrician to comment on how amazing they are. As a person who sees many sets of young eyes, even she was taken aback by yours. I wish pictures did your eyes true justice, part of me fears someday they will change, and I won't be able to look back and see them as they are now. I love looking into those eyes, usually veiled in your hair, early in the morning. I love how they almost disappear when you laugh, I even love how intense the blue looks when your eyes are red rimmed with tears. I love that no matter how old you get, I will be forever fascinated when I look into your eyes. Because whenever I do, I not only see the beautiful little girl your are. I can see glimpses of the woman you will become. I can see memories of the baby you were. And every so often, you grant my greatest wish. When I look into your dark blue rimmed, turquoise eyes, I can travel back in time to relive the moments surrounding your birth. I won't ever be able to thank you enough, baby girl, for that incredible gift.
Happy Birthday, my sweet little bug.