Three years ago, I held you for the first time.
You were so small, and so perplexing. I was terrified. But there you were - 9 pounds 10 oz and 22 inches long with jet black hair, dark brown eyes and cheeks so chubby the delivery nurse showed you off around the floor.
We had a rough start, you and I. I was so sad, and that summer was hot and humid, like many here in New York, and I was afraid to take you outside. Afraid to navigate the steep stairs of our tenement building and venture into the world. But one day, the heat broke, and I packed you into the stroller and we were off, exploring the wild world around us. The darkness I felt slipped away and I emerged again. Mama.
Now, here we are, 3 years later. Your hair has lightened to a light brown, but your eyes are still deepest darkest brown, like black coffee. Your smile can light up a room, and you are full, oh-so-full of life. Your imagination is growing by leaps and bounds and you are so curious about the world we live in. You love completely, whether it's your stuffed puppy, our cats, your princess dresses or your friends at school. To watch your relationship with your brother grow makes my heart stretch in ways I didn't know possible.
Thank you sweet girl for giving me the gift of motherhood.