Happy Birthday, DeLaynie!

Three years, come and gone so quickly. When you first arrived, so tiny and pink, I knew that you were precious, but I didn’t know you yet. I held you. I fed you. I waited on your personality to emerge.

You became more and more lovely as the days went on. You became more and more of a daddy’s girl, too. I wasn’t sad. Or jealous. Okay, maybe a little. But I love it because I love you, and that’s who you are, my little one.

We brought someone else into your world. At first you weren’t happy, but she grew on you. Then it seemed a little like you were physically growing on her. You are a great big sister, and very proud of it, too.

You grew bigger. You grew smarter. You grew so fast. So often, you wiggle away from me. There’s just too much to do. Too much to see. There isn’t much time to sit and be held now. Every once in a while, you’ll show mercy, and allow me to squeeze you tighter, hold you closer, breathe you in deeper.

Very soon you’ll be a teenager. You’ll grumpily exhale the popular form of “Whatever!” as I cry the first time you say that you hate me. You won’t understand why a word would hurt so badly, just as you didn’t understand why an “I love you, Mommy,” meant so much the first time that I heard it.

For now, just let me sit here with you. Just let me take in each moment. Let me watch you as you change and grow. Let me be the one to comfort you on the days full of pain. Let me celebrate with you on the days full of joy. Let me be your mommy.