I always cry on Sam’s birthday. To be fair, it’s only been three times — the day I gave birth (self-explanatory) and then again on her first birthday. I think I cried because I couldn’t believe I made it through one year without sleep and was still standing. This year, it was something she said that triggered it.
Lately she has been repeating questions we ask her in the form of sentences (as that is how she hears them from me). “Are you all done?” when she won’t eat anymore. “You want to watch Sesame Street and drink milk?” when she’s asking for TV time. “Are you tired?” obviously, when she is tired. A few days before her birthday, we were in the bathroom and she was on the counter while I was coming her hair and getting her ready for bed. Out of the blue she stood up and just gave me the biggest, tightest hug, and then kissed me on the nose said, “Are you my big girl?”, something I have been saying to her to prepare her for the arrival of her little sister. It was the sweetest thing, because I do all of that to her (tight hug plus kiss on the nose). Of course when I thought about it again on her actual birthday, the tears came rolling in.
Maybe this pregnancy is making me hormonal and emotional, but really, if I were to talk about the true meaning of thanksgiving for me — it would be because of my very own little turkey of a two-year old (at the time of my pregnancy, we didn’t know her gender, and since I was due on thanksgiving, we called her Turkey). And while there are days when I wish it could be easier, there are infinitely more days when I am glad that it’s just me, and thankful for the opportunity to see it all and experience every single detail of her life as it goes by. I know I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
And soon, there will be two…
To my darling Sammie-Pooh. I thank God everyday for little girls like you.