My sweet little Emily,
When you were born, Oliver decided to stop breastfeeding, started wanting always daddy, and I “lost” my little boy. It’s been hard for me and it still hurts at times.
When I recently spent three weeks at the hospital, what hurt me the most was having to stop breastfeeding you and to see you scared of being with me, running to daddy to be picked up. I was happy you had such a safe harbor in him, but I thought I’d lost you, too. And then I came home, and that same night you took my hand to go to bed, caressed my face and kissed my lips for ages before falling asleep, like we used to, like nothing ever changed. I’ll never forget that.
Before you were born, I was afraid I could never love another child as much as I loved Oliver; and our first 18 months together were hard, a dark journey through sleep deprivation that challenged me like nothing before. But the love I felt for you the moment I laid eyes on your tiny body has never stopped growing. You really have a way to make it all better.
It’s so hard for me to write about you, though, because I can’t put into words how special you are.
You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You’re so happy it sometimes feels like you come from a different planet. You’re fierce—sometimes “This girl is on fire” plays in my mind when I observe you. You’re so independent—you change clothes a thousand times a day and nobody can tell you what to wear. You’re so strong willed—it’s your way or no way (good thing you always know how to get your way). You’re so empathetic, you understand when you hurt somebody’s feelings, and always apologize first (with no input from us). You crawled when you were 5 months, walked at 9 months, made full sentences at 20 months.
I sometimes stare at you thinking how lucky I feel to have you as my daughter, my guide, my teacher, my example in life, and I can’t wait to find out what you are going to teach me in 2019.
Happy 2nd birthday, my little girl.
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