I remember the night before my scheduled c-section, so excited to have a little girl that I couldn't sleep at all that night. Your little pink and purple clothes were all laid out and and I was so excited to be your mama and do our 'girly' things together, like paint nails and play dress-up and do your hair and go shopping together.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm failing miserably at being your mama. You are me; you are stubborn and smart and underneath that hard shell is a beautiful soul and lively, enthusiastic spirit. You are my challenging one; the one that shuts down if something is wrong; the one who wants to wear her summer sparkly shoes in the dead of winter; the one that loves so big and has a smile to match; the one that has a contagious laugh and a concerned heart and is loving and kind and has a sensitive soul to match. Sometimes, I have to look inside myself to figure you out; do some soul searching to try to help you, because we are two halves of a whole, and it is difficult sometimes.
I love you as far as the stars and moon and back. I love you fiercely, and when your heart hurts, so does mine.
I love that you love to create things; draw and paint and write in your many, many, many notebooks. I love that when I let you pick something out in the store, it's always new pens and notebooks to write; new crafts to create. I love that you think I'm a crafty mom, because I so am not.
I love you for you and I hope you never change, because you are beautiful, both inside and out. I hope the world doesn't crush your spirit and your enthusiasm and your pure zest for living.
You can do anything you set your mind to, anything and everything, and you are extraordinary. I need to tell you this more often; I need to tell you that on ordinary days, you make life extraordinary.
Happy Birthday, sweet girl.