Dear Daughter,
I wasn’t there on the day you were born. I was six hundred miles away watching the sky explode with colorful Fourth of July celebration. I had escaped to my happy place, a family cabin on a lake tucked away in the mountains. After months of emotional turmoil and years of waiting for our baby I thought I could use recharging, some carefree time with your sister and a hug from nana. Really, what I needed was you. I didn’t yet know that you were mine to celebrate. I didn’t know that in less than twenty four hours I would board an airplane home, heart in throat.
Walking through the hospital with your dad I felt so small and crowded. There were people hurrying everywhere in a frantic bustle and I just needed to get to you. When I saw you, everything else faded into the background. I scooped you up and studied your perfectly round face for recognition. I searched your big almond shaped eyes, and whispered in your ear over and over “mommy is here, mommy is here.” I sat up all night long watching you, afraid if I blinked you would vanish. I promised I would be there for you every moment, from that day forward.
Over the last year I have become prone to fits of unwarranted tears, emotional outbursts of gratitude and love that cannot possibly be contained. I hear you giggling with your big sister, or see you grinning at your daddy as you scoot happily across the room and giant tears of gratitude begin to well up. There’s the way it feels when you lay your sleepy head on my shoulder. I become a human waterfall. I don’t know why our little family has been so blessed, or what we would do without you. I only know that you are ours and we are yours, and I hope with everything I have that you will never question where you belong.
Exactly one year later and we are back at the cabin on the lake. It gives me such sastifaction that you will know somewhere that is still wild as it is beautiful. That it might become your happy place too. Fireworks explode once again outside the window and I have you tucked in close to me, stroking your hair. You are scared and I whisper in your ear, “It’s okay, mommy is here, mommy is here.” You blink up at me with love and a toothy smile. You know you are safe and loved and that I am your mom.
