I have had a very hard time writing this letter to you, and I don't know exactly why. Maybe it is because words are just not enough sometimes to describe the love that I feel for you, my girl. Maybe it is because there are just oh so many things that I love, love, love about you and the young lady that you are becoming. And, maybe it is because I don't like to admit that my baby is growing up.
Seriously girl. How is it possible that my first baby, the one that baptized me into motherhood, is already 8 years old? I look at you as you work on your own blog, and I am truly amazed that you are the same person as that screaming, chubby, drooly bundle. Amazed. And, blessed.
Just a few months ago, you had a program at your school. You were supposed to dress for your future career. You, of course, picked to be a fashion designer. Considering your flair for your hair, your clothes, and even your room, I thought that it was a totally appropriate choice. But, when you walked down the stairs with your head held high and a big smile plastered on your face to show dad and I your outfit, I was floored. You wore your black and white graphic smock with black leggings. On your feet were too cute flat shoes, and on your head was an ultra cool scarf. Your blond bobbed hair was super chic and you topped off your fashion designer outfit with oversized sunglasses. You were perfect, my girl! You looked oh so grown up, and I realized that your were not a little girl anymore.
I remember that I felt oh, so proud of you, but at the same time, I was a little sad too. I know. I know. That sounds crazy, but it's true. I think that I was sad to think that my baby, the one that would never let anyone but me hold her, the one that would run around in her diaper with her Jessie from Toy Story outfit on, that girl . . . that girl didn't quite need me in the same way anymore. It was a hard thing for me to realize.
But, as I think about it more and more, that realization was a good thing. It was a good thing for me to realize that while you are growing, I am growing too.
So, as you grow each year, my Abigail, remember that I am growing as your mom also. Be patient with me, my first born, as I am with you. I am still learning everyday how to be the mom of a young lady that is eager and ready to learn about the world. And, although I don't know what the future will hold for you, I am excited that as your mom, I get to be a part of it, as we learn and grow together as mother and daughter.
I love you, my Abigail. I thank God for his precious gift, you, everyday.
P.S. Remember, you are never too old to snuggle with your mom before bed.
****Yes, I know that this is not your real birthday, but we'll consider it a "celebrate" birthday as Ethan would say.