I am crazy about you.
You *finally* started smiling socially last weekend - on my birthday! - and the transition from newborn to infant is slowly taking place and it makes me happy. You're becoming less of a delicate blob and more of a sweet-smelling babe who just wants to nuzzle.
You are a top-rate cuddler, and it allows me to just marvel at you, with your buttercup cheeks and edible elbows and downy hair. I cannot look at you without seeing A Baby with Down Syndrome, though, and I often find myself asking you why. Why do you have Down syndrome? Why did you choose me? What is this going to mean for all of us?
When I was pregnant with you, I was so positive you were a boy. (Hence, the blue-and-brown motif in your bedroom). I was so sure of it; I could just feel it, and that should have been my first indication that you were a girl, since I was so sure you sister was a boy, as well. During my 22-hour labor with you, I sighed and rolled my eyes in mock exasperation a few times, saying This little guy is going to keep us on our toes!, after your sudden flip to breech position, your varying heart rates, and the fact that you just couldn't seem to find the way out.
But here you are, and you're Mirabel. You were Mirabel all along. You were Mirabel when I got stuck in that awful traffic jam last August. You were Mirabel when I had an emotional breakdown in September. You were Mirabel inside of me, my winter miracle, rolling around and filling me with wonder. You are Mirabel, my fighter, my champion, my cuddle bug, my smiler. My daughter.
It was you all along, and I am honored to be the one who carried you. Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy. I promise to love and live alongside you forever.
I love you, Mirabel!
5 years ago