Dear Caroline,
Today is your sixth birthday. Six years. I know it in my head but my heart is having a hard time comprehending that you are six years old.
Up until the day he died, my Pa-Pa never missed an opportunity to tell me about the day I was born. He loved to tell me how he took a sleeping pill because he couldn’t sleep and then got the call from my daddy at midnight letting them know they better head to Houston right then if they wanted to be there when I was born. So he and my Me-Ma picked up my Nanny and the three of them headed to the hospital with my Pa-Pa at the wheel in spite of his medicated state. I always loved hearing him tell me that story even though I never totally understood why he told it so often.
Now I understand.
There are moments in your life that are so significant that they don’t fade with the passing of time. I’ve mostly forgotten the pain of not getting an epidural until way too late in labor and the fact that I managed to inflict a thumb injury on your daddy while he held my hand during a contraction, but I will never forget the way I felt when they placed you in my arms for the first time. You looked at me with eyes that never seemed to blink as if you were giving me the once over to see if I was up for the challenge of motherhood.
Some days I feel like the verdict is still out. There are days I get it right and days I get it wrong, but the one constant is that you bring me more joy and laughter than I knew existed six years ago.
A few weeks ago we were coming home from an exciting morning of grocery shopping at HEB and all of a sudden I hear your little voice ask, “Why am I here?”
“What do you mean? Why are you in the car?”
“No. I mean why am I here? Why did God put me here?”
Wow. I don’t think I asked that question until my mid-twenties. Or yesterday.
I explained that God has a purpose and a plan for all of us. He loves us and wants to use us to help those around us. You listened to me very intently and then said, “I think maybe God wants me to be a clown”. If that’s your calling then I will do what I can to help you be the best clown you can be, but you need to know that your daddy had a bad circus experience as a child and may not be able to hang out with all your clown friends. Something about all those people fitting in one tiny car freaks him out.
This summer we’ve spent a lot of time at the pool and you never fail to act completely devastated when it’s time to leave. It’s especially bad if you see one of your friends walking in as we’re leaving. In fact there have been moments that I’ve wanted to fake an injury or throw a beach towel over your head to distract you from the realization that someone you haven’t seen in “at least two days” just walked in to swim.
The drama reached new heights last week as we left to go home after your pleas for “just five more minutes” fell on deaf ears. You looked at me with big tears in your eyes and announced, “I am as sad as a pickle that has just been eaten.”
It’s my new favorite phrase. I kind of think we ought to make some t-shirts and see if it catches on.
But that’s what I love about you. You’re not afraid to voice your opinion. You will never be one to sit back and see what everyone else does. You’re ready to take on life the same way you jump off the diving board, one great big flying leap.
When you were still just a baby, I would rock you and sing to you. These days you’d probably tell me that my voice doesn’t sound very good, but back then you weren’t able to complain unless it was in the form of a toxic diaper. I usually treated you to a wide array of song choices during those middle of the night hours, but one that I always ended up singing was “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” even though singing Aerosmith songs to your newborn is such a cliche’. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that led me to resort to Steven Tyler, but it summed up how I felt as we sat and rocked with your little baby fingers curled around mine.
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
While you’re far away dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure”
Last night I tucked you in and began to read the books you’d picked out for us to read. My voice cracked and I felt tears come to my eyes. You just seemed so big to me as you sat snuggled up next to me and pointed out the words you can read by yourself. Time just seems to be going by too fast.
And I don’t want to miss a thing.
Daddy and I love you more than you’ll ever know. Happy Birthday, sweet girl.
Love,
Mama