This time 3 years ago, I was mere hours from meeting my baby girl. It had been over 24 hours since my first definite contractions, and I was tired, in pain, and blissed out beyond belief. We were so excited and ready to meet her, and had begun dreaming as parents do of all the things and ways she might end up being.
We. Had. No. Idea.
Tonight when I was tucking Luca into her bed (the BIG bed, not the toddler bed....in panties, not a Pull-Up at her insistence) I told her it was the last time I'd tuck her in as a 2 year old. She smiled at me and squeaked out, "It's my birfday tomorrow!!". And I might have cried a little. Or, a lot? And she rolled back over to look at me, put her hand on my cheek, and said, "It's ok, Mama! Three is AWESOME!"
And it will be. Because everything she does, she does with AWESOME. Our Luca is a light in the world around her. She's full of joy and compassion. She kisses her brother full on the lips, then explodes in a fit of giggles over his drool. She's his favorite little comedian, and nothing makes him laugh so much as she does. She dances and twirls and pretends the hallway upstairs is a big blue pool and the stairs are a water slide. She tells me about all the people she knows (real and imaginary) and how they will wear pink dresses and play with her and how much they will love her new shoes. She makes friends with nice pink monsters and captures then releases mean red ones. Her eyes are her daddy's green. Her spirit is all her own. She is lightness and brightness. She has an imagination I cannot even believe sometimes, a memory I wish wasn't so great many times, and a smile that causes even the surliest people around her to smile despite themselves.
She's my baby, and I love her more than words could ever begin to express. Her spirit cannot be contained by the written word; her essence is too complex and beautiful for me to capture properly. I feel blessed the universe gave her to me....to us.
The other night, I lay on the floor, and you came and crawled up onto my chest. You put your head by my heart and curled your legs up like a little froggy, and I began to cry. When you asked me why, I could only tell you it was because I was happy. But I realized later, after tucking you into bed, that it's because my soul and heart have a memory as does my body, and they all remembered you, newly born and soft as petals, in that same position as close to my heart as you could possibly be.
I love you sweet girl. Thank you eternally for being my daughter.