Dear Little AG,
I can hardly believe that exactly 2 years ago today the doctor laid you in my arms for the first time. I felt so bonded with you from carrying you for 42 weeks that I didn’t think seeing you could possibly make me love you any more than I already did, but I was wrong. From the moment I saw your sweet little face I knew what it meant to live my life for someone else. In some ways that day seems like it was 10 years ago, in other ways it feels like it was just yesterday. I love watching you grow and learn, but I find myself savoring little moments that I know I will one day wish I could experience again. You are growing up so quickly, and no one is more painfully aware of it than I am.
You have taught me so much without even realizing it. I’ve learned to be patient and guide you, but to not always show you the way because it is so much more meaningful to discover it on your own. I’ve learned that so much of who you are is nature and not nurture, and I am proud of your independent and purposeful spirit. I’ve learned that you have your own timeline, and no matter what the books and doctors say, you will reach your own milestones when you are good and ready. I’ve learned to let you take your time when exploring new things because I’ve already recognized an analytical side in you that is much less pronounced in myself. Most of all, I’ve learned that there is no right or wrong way to be your mother, as long as I try my hardest to do what is best for you.
I marvel at how different life is now from when you were a newborn. I used to cradle you in my arms or lay you against my chest and rock you for hours on end, usually falling asleep once you did. Now, two years later, you rarely sit still long enough for me to rock you, and I cherish the moments when you seem to want to nuzzle into my neck, even if it’s only for a few moments. Back then, you were only aware of us, needing to sleep, and wanting food, but now your world and curiosities have expanded beyond our little cocoon here at home, as they should.
At 2, your interests are far-reaching, though you still have a deep love of animals that began when you were 4 months old. Your face lights up at the sight of anything on four legs, and you typically meow at cats and bark at dogs – as opposed to calling them by their names. When you are quiet, I often worry until I find you in a corner of my bedroom, your arms wrapped tightly around one of the dogs in a full-on hug. Thankfully they are both very patient and tolerate you well, even when you pull their tails or take food out of their bowls.
Tigger is still a staple in this house, and though we have nine different Tiggers you have grown most attached to one in partictular, so I’m fully aware that we’re in for it if he ever goes missing. Just recently you’ve begun saying “Tih-gurrrr” instead of your previously favored “Tigg Tigg” or “Tiggie”, and everyone who hears you say it agrees that it’s the cutest thing they’ve ever heard.
You were obviously born with an inherent love of music because you instinctively move your body to anything from a drum beat to a ringing cell phone (not to mention songs by the Imagination Movers which incorporate full-blown original dance moves). You’ve been hearing French since you were born, but the only word you’ve ever attempted was “Bonjour” – though I’m hoping that will change very soon. Even though you can talk, you still choose to sign when you are hungry or thirsty, and now you have learned to do them with sweeping emphasis to indicate that you are STARVING or COMPLETELY PARCHED, which makes me giggle every time. The way you smile and call for “Mommm-eeeee” makes me melt, and I will never grow tired of hearing you sing my name – not even at four, five, or six am.
We have come a long way in two years, kiddo. You are the light of my life and the beat of my heart.
Happy Birthday, ma puce. I love you.