A Letter to Emilie

Dear Emilie,

I'm not always pretty these days. Most days I have spit up over my shoulder and often in my hair- which is in a pony tail so often that it is permanently crinkled from the rubber band. I shower every other day if I'm lucky. Yet you smile a huge sweet smile at me every morning all the same and instantly, I feel like a supermodel. Thank you. For the gift of being your mommy. And for not being old enough to discriminate based on poorly matched, ill fitting outfits.

We spend a lot of time together, but perhaps my favorite time with you is while you eat. These are the times that I stop almost all together to soak you in; to recognize how big you are getting; to compliment your sweet features, and to tell you how proud I am at all you've learned in just eight short weeks. Late at night (or early in the morning) when the house is quiet and still, I can hear the rhythmic sound that you made when you eat. Sometimes in those hours I hold you on my chest a little while after you are full, just to watch you sleep and hear you breathing in and out so softly. I love to gently touch your checks as they fill with air. Most times you strain your neck as if to say, "Let me sleep, mom!" but I love to touch your soft skin and take in your sweet smell.

We're going to have fun, mommy and her girls. We'll play dolls, and dress up and sing songs and paint our toe nails and drive daddy crazy. I'm fairly certain that Marin is determined to teach you everything she knows, and when you are both older, we'll laugh about it all over lunch and when you're much older, a few glasses of wine.

I'm going to try very hard not to make you feel like the second child. I promise not to act like I've seen it all before. I know everything you do will be extraordinary, and I promise to tell you just that. I promise not to make you wear too many hand me downs. You have my word that you will not have to wear your sister's prom dress to homecoming the following year. But you will have to share a bathroom and I can tell you right now that it is my expectation that you do so peacefully.

I will try to not compare you to your sister, but if I do, please know that it's only because up to this point, that's all I know. I promise to let you each have your own voice- and to listen to it. I promise to let you each pick a book to read before bedtime. I promise to not be too tired to do all of your favorite voices.

I can't wait to witness your and Marin's sisterly bond form and grow. I hope that when you're old enough to get together on your own, you'll invite me along a few times. I hope you love and value each other and always say that you are sorry shortly after you fight about clothes or the amount of hot water. I know it will sometimes be hard, but you'll make me proud when you share your toys with one another and play like girlfriends.

Watching you grow is amazing. You are so beautiful and sweet. I love you so very, very much. You may never know just exactly how much I love you and your sister, no matter how many times I tell you. But I hope you know that my love for you is endless and abundant. I am your greatest fan, your advocate. I will always be in your corner; if you are wrong I will gently teach you what is right. It is a great pleasure to be your mommy. I am in awe of you every day. I can't wait to see what you will become. I am certain that you will leave the world a better place.

Welcome, my love. Enjoy.

Love,
Mommy