Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Dear Kate, You're 4



You're 4!  How did that happen, sweet girl?




Some days I swear that I can still smell and feel and taste the way the hospital was the weekend you were born.  I remember your tiny little body and your sweet little cries and the fear I had because you were too early and I wasn't ready.  You transformed me into a mother in the blink of an eye and I remember just being so incredibly overwhelmed with love and fear and happiness and anxiety.

I remember the first time your daddy left the two of us alone.  He had to go home to get a few items for me (my glasses! who forgets their glasses?) and as soon as he stepped out of the room I felt, for the first time, that new mommy fear.  What do I do with this little person?  Do I hold her?  Do I put her in the bassinet?  What if a nurse comes in and I'm not holding her right?  What will they think of me as a mom?  Little did I know that it was the very beginning of mother guilt and doubt.  It was the first of many life lessons we have experienced together.  It is true that children are their parent's greatest teachers in life.

I remember John coming back to the hospital and telling me how he could smell you on his clothes, on his hands, everywhere.  You had only been in the world for 12 hours but you were already everywhere around us.  You had imprinted on him and he was forever changed.  Wherever your daddy and I go, today and forever, you come with us.

You were our first baby.  We tried hard not to make any mistakes with you but I am sure we made some, and will continue to make some, on this journey of parenthood.  Your first week at home I obsessed over every ounce you gained, and worried every time you slept too long or didn't sleep at all. You were our miracle, our blessing, and we were absolutely terrified at how much we loved you.

Looking at you now, I cannot believe what a beautiful little girl you have become.  You aren't a baby anymore, you aren't a toddler, you are a little girl!  You are inquisitive and gentle, you are smart and focused, you love others deeply and light up the room with your smiles and winks.  You love so easily and so openly and I admire your ability to forgive quickly and comfort others even when you are hurting.  You have taught me a lot about forgiveness and being open to others.  I love that you are so friendly to other children and that you are quick to play with whoever approaches you.  I hope you continue to be so kindhearted and sweet spirited for making others feel worthy and important is a wonderful trait to possess.

You love school and your teachers and classmates.  You are so intent on learning to read and write right now.  I love how you ask questions all day and practice your writing for fun.  Your focus is breathtaking and you got that trait from your daddy.  Right now you really seem to enjoy insects which often freaks me out because you will calmly walk over to me and place bugs in my hands that you find so that I can put them outside.  "Isn't he cuuuuute?", you ask.  I fake a "yes, sweety of course" while I make a quick bolt toward the door.  Maybe in a few years you will be disposing of the spiders during daddy's deployments. 

For this next year I wish for you happiness and knowledge and friendship and love.  Daddy, Connor, and I love you more than anything and are so proud to be your family.  Happy birthday, Kate-Kate, here's to a wonderful 5th year!

Love, Mommy


5 comments:

Karen said...

Happy Birthday, sweet Kate! Such a lovely post. :)

Jen said...

Oh it does really go by too fast! What a sweet gift to give this letter to her when she is older :)

Tay Harwood said...

hi jill, I'm Tay, I wanted to know what software or app you used to create your lovely photo of kate is 4! my little guy turns three soon and I love the idea.

Jill said...

Hi Tay, I used Photoshop :).

Tay Harwood said...

thanks! Im on it:)

Hi, I'm Jill!

Hi, I'm Jill!
Extrovert. Mom of two. Wife of a cute Naval Aviator. Lover of wine. When I'm not chasing my two kids around town you will find me writing, taking too many photos, and researching the ten future areas the Navy could potentially (but probably won't) PCS us. We are fish out of water, landlocked at 7,000 feet. For now.

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