Three years ago today.

Both of us were so brand new.

And now, you’re jumping on my bed. Strong legs and sinewy limbs. Abs strong enough to lift your entire body up onto the rings.

My heart bursts with pride.

This year has been filled with so many firsts.

So many catch-your-breath moments when daddy grabs my hand behind your back and we look at each other in disbelief that we could have possibly created something so beautiful, smart, and fierce.

 

On the day you learned to swim I spotted tears in daddy’s eyes, one of the only times I ever have. His heart was literally overflowing with pride and joy for you. And I realized that you unlocked a piece of him I never could have opened on my own.

You’re only 36 months old and still, my life before you feels like a distant memory. Nostalgic but unfulfilled.

You made me a mother and I’m sorry that I’m not better at it.

I’m sorry that we have to learn this thing together. How to be you and me. Mother and daughter. Strong-willed and stronger.

You look like your daddy but you’re just like me and sometimes it’s SO HARD.

I yell too much and you listen too little but you don’t take shit from anyone, and it’s so annoying but I’m so proud.

And now, with your baby sister beside you, you’re practically a grown up.

All potty trained and preschooled and full of sweetness and sass.

Three years gone and I can still smell the sticky sweetness of your hair, when they handed you over to me in that dark and hostile hospital room where you tested my patience for the very first time.

You are our greatest adventure Mia Rose.

I love you today and I’ll love you forever.

Happy birthday baby girl.

Love, Mom.

P.S. Here’s your video: