Two Years Later

Two years ago, my very awesome husband wrote this post after our final family member made her way into the world.  I just went back and reread his post for the first time since the early days of Meadow’s life.  I reread Chad’s words and was immediately transported back to that beautiful day when the four of us became five.  Meadow’s birth was different from those of Charlie and Chanelle.  When Meadow graced us with her beautiful presence, the world had shifted a bit for all of us.  It looked different without my Mom.  We felt things deeper, our hearts were even more tender.  I remember less detail, but more feelings. 

When the world shifts like that. . . you realize that feelings matter. 

The night she was born, I remember sitting in the darkened hospital room with Chad.  I remember looking down at our tiny dark haired baby and realizing for the first time (I mean, really realizing) that everything was going to be okay.  That life was good and beautiful.  And you know what else?  I remember feeling that I was stronger than I ever knew I was. 

Meadow brought us so many gifts and honestly?  We celebrate her daily.  But this day, two years after her birth, Running Chatter is for her.  (Past years, here and here.)

Sweet Meadow,

Today you are two years old.  You don’t even know what that means right now.  When I say “birthday” you don’t have a clue what that means.  However, I trust, that someday, when you are older you will scroll down though this space until you reach November 17 just to see. . . what was I like during that second year?  Oh Meadow, I could write forever.

Two years ago we had no idea how such a tiny little person could add so much life to our already quite lively home.  But Meadow?  You did.  When I think about the things I want to remember about this time in your life–they are endless.  I’m not even sure where to begin. 

Meadow, in your second year of life we have learned that you walk to the beat of your own drum.  You have a style and a sass that is all your own.  You are not afraid to stand up and stand out.  At age two, we already see it,  you are not afraid to be uniquely who you are. 

I hope you never lose that, Baby Girl.

I think when I look back on this time in your life the things that I will remember are the things that do make you uniquely you.  Like when you sneak out of your room every night and sneak into Chanelle’s room.  I think I will want to remember the way you make so much noise opening her closet door and playing dress up in her clothes while she sleeps soundly a few steps away.  I will want to remember the way you look up at us with a proud smile and your best model pose when we come to take you back to your room. . . as if you know the impossibility of us to discipline such cuteness.

I think I’ll want to remember the way you woke up with a smile and a great big HELLO!! each and every morning.  They way you called “milk”, “milk-a”.  The way you called everyone, “Mama”.  The way you insisted on doing most everything for yourself–especially dressing yourself.

Oh, and your love for your siblings?  Meadow, words could never capture it.  Words are too weak.  Words fail.  But Meadow, you adore your brother and your sister.  And you know what?  The feeling is very mutual.

Two years after your birth, they still race to greet you in the morning.  When they walk through the door after school, the first words out of their mouth are, where’s Meadow?  They will not go anywhere without first wrapping their arms around you in a giant hug.  Charlie and Chanelle marvel at every new thing you do.  They celebrate each new word you say.  Before you were born, your Daddy and I were unsure about how Charlie and Chanelle would adjust to a new person in our lives.  We had no idea how deep and honest and pure their love would be.

Meadow, you are so deeply loved.

The truth is, Meadow, before you came were perfectly happy.  Our home was filled with love and contentment.  We wanted for nothing.  But life goes that way sometimes.  You don’t really know you are missing something until you have it.  And then you wonder how you ever lived without it.

That’s how it was with you.  Meadow, you have brought so much light and life and joy to our family that we wondered how we ever existed without you.  At age two, you carry in you a spirit that overflows with joyfulness and love.  A love that has spread to all of us who have been blessed to spend time with you.

Of course, two years is not a long time.  You have only begun to bloom into the person you are going to be.  And you know what?  That’s the exciting part.  Your story has only begun.

Oh Meadow, I can’t wait to watch your story unfold.  And even though I don’t know all the details of that story, there are a few things that I do know.  Meadow, what I do know is this. . .

Your Daddy and I?  We are proud of you.  We believe in you.  And we support you. 

I realize that I am rambling now because that’s what I tend to do.  (You probably know that by now.)  Let me just close with this. . .

. . . Thank you. 

Thank you, Meadow, from every part of my being, for completing our family with your beautiful presence.  Thank you for bringing all that is so uniquely you to our family.  Thank you for your laughter and your silliness.  For your sweet hugs and tender heart.  Thank you for teaching us to not take life too seriously and that it’s okay to live in the moment. 

Meadow, to put it quite simply. . .

Thank you for being born.

I love you.

Mommy