Dear N,
Today you are 7 years old, and so I begin my annual note to you.
I wanted to post some pictures of you showing how you've grown and changed since you were born. And what I thought would only take a few minutes of exporting turned into an hour (plus) of remembering so many wonderful times I have been lucky to share with you in your short life. While I feel tremendous joy seeing you develop into a big girl who can do so much for yourself, such as making your own sandwiches and snacks, I also miss seeing you as you were as a little one with your sweet chubby cheeks and ringlets of blond hair. I miss being able to cuddle with you and carry you and rock you to sleep every night.
As your mom, I am biased as to your intelligence and kindness and beauty, but knowing how many people who aren't your mom think so highly of you in these regards makes me certain hat even if I hadn't given birth to you, I would think you are a pretty special girl.
I savor little snippets of you as I can. The things you say and can now do with greater physical ease (like jumping rope), I jot down in a journal. I take pictures of or save your drawings and notes to me and your dad so that I can remember (and one day you can see) how you shaped your letters and tried to write in cursive and misspelled words (although very few). The milestones you achieve now are subtle, and so I am sometimes surprised that you are now able to do something that you weren't able to do only a few short months ago.
In a few short years, our relationship will likely grow strained and sometimes downright unpleasant. But I hope that these little letters to you will be a reminder, to both of us, that I have been so lucky, so privileged to spend this time with you, to be your mom, to have you in my life. There is nothing so great I have ever done to deserve the gift that is you.
I love you always my dear daughter,
Mom
Today you are 7 years old, and so I begin my annual note to you.
I wanted to post some pictures of you showing how you've grown and changed since you were born. And what I thought would only take a few minutes of exporting turned into an hour (plus) of remembering so many wonderful times I have been lucky to share with you in your short life. While I feel tremendous joy seeing you develop into a big girl who can do so much for yourself, such as making your own sandwiches and snacks, I also miss seeing you as you were as a little one with your sweet chubby cheeks and ringlets of blond hair. I miss being able to cuddle with you and carry you and rock you to sleep every night.
As your mom, I am biased as to your intelligence and kindness and beauty, but knowing how many people who aren't your mom think so highly of you in these regards makes me certain hat even if I hadn't given birth to you, I would think you are a pretty special girl.
I savor little snippets of you as I can. The things you say and can now do with greater physical ease (like jumping rope), I jot down in a journal. I take pictures of or save your drawings and notes to me and your dad so that I can remember (and one day you can see) how you shaped your letters and tried to write in cursive and misspelled words (although very few). The milestones you achieve now are subtle, and so I am sometimes surprised that you are now able to do something that you weren't able to do only a few short months ago.
In a few short years, our relationship will likely grow strained and sometimes downright unpleasant. But I hope that these little letters to you will be a reminder, to both of us, that I have been so lucky, so privileged to spend this time with you, to be your mom, to have you in my life. There is nothing so great I have ever done to deserve the gift that is you.
I love you always my dear daughter,
Mom
3 comments:
Wow. Beautiful pictures and beautiful post.
This is going to be so special for her (and you) one day. Loved all the photos...
This brought tears to my eyes. Just beautiful. And it made me wish I'd been lucky enough to have a mama like who could communicate such warmth and love and joy to her daughter.
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