Happy Birthday, Dear Girl

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Two years ago, I held my baby outside of my body for the first time. I touched her sweet face and nursed her and cried happy tears.

One year ago, we were living in the midst of the crazy. I was working full-time, but I took off October 27 to be with my girl. I drug my chubby-cheeked princess from place to place when her idea of a perfect birthday probably included lots of cake and cuddles.

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I want to write Libbie a long letter about all of her accomplishments of the last year. About how funny it is now that at 18 months I was worried about her vocabulary skills. About how she STILL won’t eat those darn grapes.

But I am 32 weeks pregnant. I am pretty sure I can’t do it without sobbing my eyes out for hours. So I might write that letter. But it will be in my hand, tucked in a scrapbook, smudged with tears, and when I feel like I can handle it emotionally.

For now, you can sniffle along with me as you look and see how my sweet girl has grown the last year.

I love you, pumpkin! Happy 2nd Birthday!

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5 thoughts on “Happy Birthday, Dear Girl

  1. Happy Birthday to Libbie! It goes by so quickly, doesn't it? And I know exactly what you mean: every single time I try to write a letter to my Henry, I fall into a puddle of pregnancy hormones and tears. But we'll get it done. And in the meantime, we can be confident they know we think they're stars, the cat's pajamas, everything special and good and exemplary in this world.

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