Birthday Eve

I just hugged my four-year-old daughter for the last time. Ever. Tomorrow morning, I'll be hugging a five-year-old. I am so happy for her (because she's so excited!), but also sad to say goodbye to year #4. She and I both grew so much!

As we were cuddling in bed (after a sweet reading of Love You Forever by Robert Munsch), I asked her how old she is. She said, "Four." I told her it's the last time she'll get to say that. She said soon she'll be six, and won't be able to say five anymore. "And then seven and then eight and then... [counting, counting, counting] 30!"

The thought hit me that one day, I won't be alive to celebrate her birthday eve (or birthday) with her. And I know she'll feel alone and have lots of "what if" and "I wish" thoughts (because I still have those same wishes for my own mom). So I hope, Katie, that you pull this out and read it when you hit those big days in your life and I'm not around.

Know that you are the love of my life. You are pure joy, pure emotion. You are the rising and the setting of the sun for Daddy and I. Your happiness and generosity is captivating. And I'll never admit it directly to you, but even your stubbornness can be charming sometimes. You are a force to be reckoned with, and the culmination of an amazing love between your father and I. I look through the coming years, and I can see what an amazing woman you are going to be.

God willing, I'll be there with you through most of it all. But there will come a birthday eve when I'm no longer there. When that day comes, know that the pride I have in you will never die. Neither will my love.

"I love you forever, I like you for always. As long as I'm living my baby you'll be." And even when I'm no longer living, you'll still be my baby. Mizpah.