Oh, my girl! How can you be five years old? How have five years flown by in the blink of an eye? I could not have imagined the child you would be today when you first came into our lives. There were many times I tried to imagine what you would be like at five years old. But even my best hopes couldn’t compare to the person you have become.

I carried you carefully. I wanted you so much. Your daddy and I knew the day we expected to meet you because of a planned induction. And, as we have come to expect from you, you didn’t make your appearance until you were good and ready.  It was years after your birth that your daddy fully explained to me how serious it really was when you were delivered. That we weren’t just in a hurry – it was a full blown emergency. My heart still skips a beat when I remember those moments. You finally emerged via c-section, not breathing. But you recovered quickly. We didn’t know at the time how close we came to not knowing you. Nor did we know just exactly who we would have missed.

We had a rough start, you and I. You made me a mother for the first time and though I wanted to be a mother so much, I wasn’t prepared for the all-encompassing responsibility or the maturity that would be required of me. I wasn’t ready for a baby that cried nearly every minute for eight straight months. I wasn’t ready for feeling helpless or for giving up the rights to my body for the nourishment of another human being. Or the  selflessness that would be required in order to not take your constant wailing and seeming discomfort personally. I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice my days and nights to you. I really thought I was. But I wasn’t.

But we made it through those long months. It took me a while to get the hang of this Mommy thing but I finally caught on. And I was blown away by the personality that I have watched blossoming from a squalling, fussy (but adorable) infant to a sweet and spunky toddler to the thoughtful and exuberant big girl you are today.

I didn’t know that those difficult first months of our relationship would bond us in a way that I’m not sure anything else could have. I didn’t know that I would experience a surge of adrenaline every time you cried or that it would prevent me from falling back to sleep at nights because I was worried that you were unhappy or uncomfortable.  I didn’t know that I could trust my instinct to recognize when something was wrong with you, that we had a connection beyond the advice of a friend or the knowledge of a doctor. I didn’t know that I could care so much or be so afraid that something would happen to you because you are part of me. I didn’t know that your happiness would be so consuming to me.

I also had no clue what it would mean to give up my freedom, to go without sleep, to be tied to someone without any relief, because even when I was away from you, I was never completely away from you. I didn’t know that I would loseWeight Exercise my cool so easily when I was tired and frustrated. I didn’t know that I had what it takes to become your advocate because I was all you had (and your Daddy, too, of course).  I didn’t know how much you would teach me about myself.  Most of all, I didn’t know how rewarded I would feel as I watched you reach new milestones, conquer obstacles, set your own goals and reach them, and create your own dreams for your life.  I just didn’t know these things? How could I until I met you?

How could I know that you would have such a kind spirit? That you would be so genuinely eager to please the people you love? That you would love and trust people so quickly?  You caught me by surprise with your loving spirit. You really did. I expected parenting you to be harder. Not that we don’t have our moments. But you have been easy to guide, eager to learn and a lot more fun than I expected.

I wish I could describe how it feels to hear you spontaneously tell me you love me multiple times a day. Or to watch you act out made-up stories with your toys. Or to hear you mother your little brother. Or to see you reading like it’s the most natural thing in the world even though one year ago you could barely recognize all your letters. I wish I could explain the way I feel when I hold you in my arms and revel in the knowledge that you came from me, that one moment you didn’t exist and the next moment you did. I wish there was a way to put into words the moments when I see the sparkle in your eyes, or marvel at the dimples in your cheeks and the freckles that are sprinkled across your nose. There just aren’t the right words to describe your determination, your sensitivity, or the way you can make one silly face after another for five minutes in a row.

I often wonder if we’ve been unfair to you, moving you across the country from Saskatchewan to Ontario and then south to America. I wonder if this kind of chaos is ultimately going to be unhealthy. i worry that the instability you’ve missed has affected you. But when I see your flexibility and your ability to take things in stride and I hope that these experiences will prove to be beneficial in the end.

Baby girl, I’m sorry I haven’t always been the mother you deserved. I haven’t always been energetic enough to match your enthusiasm. I haven’t always been patient enough to teach you when you wanted to learn. And I haven’t always been gentle enough when all you wanted was my attention. I regret these things frequently. I hope that you will be able to forgive me for my failings. I imagine a day when you are a mother and you understand these things better than you will now, just as I have been realizing them about my own mother in the past five years.  I imagine us as friends. I imagine you as a grown woman, living your dreams. I imagine reminiscing about you calling a bathing suit a “baby suit” and when you wanted to be a paramedic or the time we got caught in a torrential downpour on your 5th birthday.  Just as I couldn’t imagine who you would be at five, I can’t imagine exactly who you will be at 25. But I get a few more clues every day, just watching you dance through life.

Lately you’ve developed some anxiety, whether due to insecurity or a desire for perfection, that causes you to apologize repeatedly for mistakes, both big and little. I fear that I have contributed to this problem by demanding too much from you. At times I expect you to be more mature than is fair. Sometimes I get too upset over small situations that mean nothing in the grand scheme of life. If I have played any part in causing you so much distress I am ashamed. You, little girl, should never be ashamed of who you are. You need not expect perfection from yourself. As long as you are happy with your life then I will be proud of you. Go out and achieve all that you want. You have it in you!

I am so proud of you, my girl. I am so honoured to be learning from you and, occasionally, teaching you.  I have been so blessed to know you.  I can’t wait to see what each year brings even though I frequently tell you that you’re not allowed to grow anymore. It’s been an amazing ride.

I hope you know that your Mama is your biggest fan. We may your rough patches, but I’ve always got your back.  You are precious girl. You are the one who made me a mother. You baptized me by fire and spit up and your are an integral part of who I am.  We are connected, you and I.

But I can’t take credit for the person you are becoming. That’s all you, baby!