you showed up a week late.
and here I am late with these words for you, for your birthday.
February 5th, 6.06 in the morning, five years ago, you made me a mama.
the time has absolutely disappeared and that sweet baby face of yours
has matured into the beauty of a young girl.
all the eloquence in the world escapes me when I think of all the things I want to say to you.
child you fill my heart so full it aches. I pray some day you will know this overflow and I pray that you won’t have to walk the road I walked with you.
you were unplanned. and I never know how much of that you should know.
when we lost Ian I learned that my heart could hold even more than you
but there is something different, special about your firstborn.
and you, you were my first and the one who walked a hard and lonely road with me.
you have gone through so much in your five short years.
asked so many hard questions you should never have needed to.
I roll my eyes at your dramatic tantrums and make comments
about you being a hard kid to handle
but your resilience and unwavering devotion constantly amazes me.
six weeks old was when you started daycare,
started spending 9 hours away from me.
the smooth transition from breast to bottle to formula amazed me
until the first time you asked me who your dad was.
then the fifty hour work weeks,
and the homework all night while I tried to juggle your needs,
and the daycare changes, job changes, church nursery changes
you’ve adjusted to five homes,
to a new daddy, a new doggy, a new school,
a cross country move.
you’ve accepted new cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.
you’ve taken eight airplane trips (!!!)
you lost the home you knew,
two fish, a cat, and your brother.
I’ve been blessed to spend more time at home with you than ever,
and my constant failures overwhelm and discourage me,
but in spite of my shortcomings, no amount of time with me is enough for you.
your humor, your heart, your insane brilliance.
all of who you are amazes me.
as I look back in love and joy at the five years past,
I want to make some promises to you in the five years to come.
Rooney Comfort, as your mama,
I promise to keep saying I love you, as often as I can, for as long as I am able.
I promise to pray over and for you, more than ever.
I promise to pick you up for as long as my arms will lift you.
I promise to kiss you good night and good morning.
I promise to embrace all the wonderful ways you are different than me.
I promise to continually point you to Jesus.
I may not have planned on you but God did.
He planned you,
He purposed you,
He adores you.
You are beautiful.
You are cherished.
You are loved.
My final promise, is to make sure you never stop hearing that.
I love you Roons