Dear Daughter,
Before our twenty week ultrasound, I suspected you were a girl. I could never really put my finger on why. I thought maybe I carried you a little higher than your brother. Whatever the reason, I believed you were going to be my daughter.
A little over a year later, I am still not used to that word. Daughter. For years, I relished the idea of being a boy mom, with a posse of dinosaur and car loving souls bull-dozing through the halls of my home. When your father and I were dating, I told him I wanted 5 boys and maybe 2 girls, even though in my head I knew 7 kids was a lot. Now, almost four years into our marriage, we have a boy and a girl.
Let me assure you, sweet child, my heart is more full and content with this reality than it ever was with the fiction in my head. God has a way of transforming the plans of our hearts into greater joys than we could ever expect when we trust and follow Him, and I am so thankful He saw fit to bless our family in this way.
It took my heart awhile to accept being pregnant again when your brother was only 9 months old. I was scared of having to make him grow up too fast, and worried that being a big brother when he himself was still a baby would be too much. I was scared that two young children in two years would mean that writing would be put on hold forever, that it would never happen.
Yet a little over a year later, your brother has done nothing but flourish at being an older sibling. And in the fifteen months since you were born, I have written more words than any other year of my life. God has used you to teach me so much.
Daily, I am learning that my expectations fail every time.
You have shown me I don’t need as much sleep as I thought I did. From the first night in the hospital to now, I have not had a full night’s sleep. While we are currently working on getting you into your own bed and hoping that soon you will sleep for longer stretches, I know there will be days when I will miss falling asleep with you tucked into my side. There will be nights when I lie awake wishing I had enjoyed this more, and not gotten emotional or angry or overwhelmed. I haven’t always handled the lack of sleep gracefully, but, sweet girl, never doubt for a moment that I haven’t loved snuggling you. Because even as we move toward weaning, the last fifteen months of nursing you to sleep has filled my heart to the brim. It has caused love to seep out and spill over.
Your entry into our lives has grown everyone’s capacity for love, including your brother. The boy I worried would have to grow too fast has treasured you more fiercely than I ever dreamed a toddler could. From day one, he wanted to hold you, soothe you, kiss your forehead, or poke your belly when you were sleeping. From day one, he wanted to share toys and snuggles. Now, I often hear him yelling, “Play, Lily. Sit down, Lily.” As he bosses you around and learns how to navigate being the oldest, I am reminded how much he adores having you right beside him. He will whine and throw a tantrum if he thinks something is unfair, always making sure that you get the same snacks he does. He will hold a finger to his lips, sssshhhhhing the house when you are sleeping, as he whispers loud enough to wake the neighbors. He loves being your brother.
You have taught me the beauty of uninhibited expression. Your crinkle nose smile never falters, and your puckered lips and full cheeks grin freely. So much laughter has filled our home simply from making silly faces with you. Even if you have just disobeyed or thrown a tantrum, one smile from you and I feel the stress melt off my shoulders. I pray that you will always be able to balance the art of being silly and serious. There isn’t much else more beautiful than an unabashed smile, lips spread wide in the security of being oneself.
You have renewed the joy of connection. If there is one thing we can count on, it’s that you will always come back for one more hug. When daddy leaves for work, you are the first to run up for a huge embrace, tilting your head for the expected kiss. After everyone else has had their turn, you are the last to receive another hug and kiss. Your hands flap up and down in an excited wave, and once the front door clicks closed, your sweet voice fills the room in a belated, “Byyyyyeee.” Your eyes linger on the spot your father just stood before you look to me for reassurance.
Your sensitivity has grown my compassion. Moments of scolding blur into big crocodile tears as I envelope you in my lap. Through you, I am learning that not every child responds to punishment and discipline the same way. You need assurance that you are loved, and I’ll gladly give it every time. I’m learning that parenting truly does look different for each child, and while it is confusing as I attempt to see life through your tiny blue eyes, while it is frustrating and we fail all too frequently, we are learning our rhythm. We are learning what works with you isn’t always what worked with your brother.
My sweet girl, I can already tell that your sensitive heart will one day bloom into a tender soul. The compassion you are teaching me will be modeled by your own example, and witnessing the transformation of your child heart to that of a woman will be so profoundly beautiful, big crocodile tears fill my own eyes at the mere idea.
You have made us laugh with your obvious favoritism. If the dog accidentally knocks you over, or if your brother steals a toy, you choose forgiveness. One lick from Loki and you forget all previous anger. As your brother hangs his head dejectedly while sitting in time out, your feet practically bounce as you wait for the go-ahead to rush forward and lay your head against his chest, wrapping your chubby arms around his waist. Yet if mom or dad offend you, the tears fall freely, and I see my own stubbornness come through as you hold a grudge of hurt. I pray we will learn how to teach you to forgive and forget while setting boundaries that protect your own heart. In the meantime, I am thankful snacks or tickles from your daddy or I close the gap.
You have made me eat my own words, reminding me that little girls can also be rambunctious lovers of dinosaurs and race cars. You play louder than your brother, and are so proficient in growling, family believed we were exaggerating until they met you. From crawling across the floor with a rumbling hum in your throat, to giggling and screeching loudly when Daddy catches you and tickles your sides, you have shown us that just like your emotions, your voice and volume hold a wide spectrum. When you were six months old, you were more interested in chewing on your brother’s match cars than using your teethers. Now, at 15 months, you love pointing to dogs and dinosaurs, barking or growling excitedly, as we attempt to flip the library book’s pages without ripping them. You are full of surprises and sass.
My house may not be filled with a posse of boys, but it is just as wild and funny as I had hoped. You love farting, eating food, and playing outside. You also love singing, clapping your hands, watching Moana, and stamping your feet in dance. When I glance down at the small red curls at the nape of your neck, I am reminded, this life with you is beautiful. It is everything that I ever wanted.
This time, we don’t have another baby on the way, and it is harder to let you go- to let your grow. Yet, I cannot wait for my expectations to continue to underwhelm as you overwhelm our lives. I cannot wait to hear about your day at school, stay up late sharing whispered dreams, watch sappy chick-flicks, sympathize over your brother’s protective nature scaring all the boys away, and shake my head over you and your daddy’s sarcastic banter.
As your momma, it is my great joy watch this life unfurl in the way He planned all along.
I love you, my sweet girl.
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