I dreamed about you for years, sweet one. Wondered what you'd look like, what things would interest you, who you would be and how you'd change me. I waited (not so) patiently for you while Mom grew you within her. I couldn't wait to touch her blooming belly every night and sing to you. As the end of her pregnancy grew near, Mom and I could barely contain our anticipation for your debut.
She came home from work four years ago today, around 5:00 pm, in tears that she was going to be huge and pregnant forever. I hugged her tight and didn't say anything, because there wasn't anything I could do to hasten your arrival. Sometimes I think it would be fun to be able to go back in time and tap myself on the shoulder with a knowing smile, and say, "Everything is going to change after tonight. Just you see. She's on her way." Four years ago, Mom's body was slowly going into labor.
EJM, you are a fixed star in my universe. You're exactly who I expected, when I dreamed of you all those years ago. You're sweet and kind, clever and funny, stubborn and good at looking for loopholes. Your laughter is contagious; your smile lights up the room. You are genuinely GOOD, down to the core. You've made me more patient; more understanding, and better balanced. I'm a better mama because of you.
I knew you loved us, but I couldn't foresee how deeply you would love your brother. Your love for him brings me to my knees with its power. You are the most natural-born mother I've ever come across and I am awaiting the magical day on which you become a mother, to see you with your own child for the first time.
Happy Birthday, my girl. I can't wait to celebrate with you at your Dress-Up party, with your Belle dress and cake and all our family and your friends. You are one of a kind, and I'm looking forward to this next trip around the sun with you.