Happy birthday, baby girl! It's been three years since you were born with a tiny cry. They handed me the most beautiful little girl bundled all pink, breathing on her own, a true miracle. I struggled to say everything I wanted to tell you in a few moments but the words didn't come to me. Instead Daddy and I stared at you, touching your face, pushing back your hat to see your brown hair (so long!), and kissing you.
As they wheeled us into the recovery room something happened. The urgency I felt in the OR was replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace. First Daddy bathed you. While he was washing you off you were staring over at me, sucking on my finger. "She's really trying," I said. We had been told you might not have the suck and swallow reflex you needed to nurse. But when they handed you back over to me all clean you went right to it, baby girl! You nursed as well as you could and we did it. We did it together!
Next you met your grandparents and most of your aunts and uncles. Everyone held you as two photographers snapped what seemed like millions of photos (but would never be enough).
We're getting on a plane this morning. For my whole life I wished to go to Disney. On every candle I blew out and every shooting star I saw for my whole life I would wish to go to Disney. Now I wish for you.
We'll ask E to pick out a special cupcake today and your little brother D will sing Happy Birthday to you. He calls you ViVi. We all miss you so much. We love you. We wish you were still here,