to lucy miller on her 8th birthday
My darling baby girl,
Oh how my heart aches thinking about the past year. It was yet another hard year in your short life. I was severely depressed for half of it and only had you 50% of the time for the other half. Part of me wants to stay in this grief, and yet I can’t. There were too many beautiful moments to just write things off as a crap year.
You my darling are a light. You bring joy to everyone who knows you. When I drop you off at school you methodically go around hugging every single teacher on your way in. It’s just how you are.
I homeschooled you the first half of the year and we had a blast (although looking back maybe studying the Titanic and Shackleton’s expedition in depth was a bit heavy for a first grader). We did have a really hard time with reading. No matter what I tried you struggled so much. Turns out you are most likely dyslexic or on the spectrum of dyslexia. Because of this we decided to hold you back a year and you repeated first grade. You didn’t let it get you down and walked into school this year with confidence and such a good attitude. You have tons of friends (and boyfriends). Your teacher told me in all her years of teaching she’s never had a harder worker than you. She also said when she feels stressed she usually feels your little fingers on her back. You sense when she needs a little massage. This is so dear! To help with reading you started working with Miss Marla and ya’ll are two peas in a pod! You adore her and she adores you and every time I pick you up, you’re having the best time. Because of Miss Marla you are starting to be able to read words more and more. I’m so proud of you never giving up.
Some of my favorite memories with you this year are (in no particular order):
Playing on the beach by moonlight.
Flying to Colorado to help Aunt Georgia with her two babies. You were a very serious and tender little mama.
Becoming roommates this summer. We snuggle and giggle before bed and it is THE BEST.
Watching you dance everywhere. In nature, in my kitchen, in your recital. You were for sure the most graceful and technical dancer in your group. I wept watching you.
Riding 17 miles of the Virginia Creeper Trail together. It was so hard for your little legs but you did it.
Dancing at Merlefest with you in our twirly skirts.
A dozen dips in the river.
Watching the stars come out one night on the parkway-all snuggled in a blanket.
Your heart is so beautiful, Lucy Miller. You are so caring for those around you who are not always included. You love babies and love stories and you have a fire inside of you that will never die. I swear I can barely stand it sometimes, I can’t believe you are my baby.
You are one tough cookie and deal with (sigh-BROTHERS) on the daily. I am praying that they are kinder to you this year and if not I’ll continue taking away all their privileges.
You recently lost your two front teeth and the cuteness level is OUT OF CONTROL.
I’m fighting the guilt I feel for not being able to stay in the home I thought you would grow up in full time. Your daddy loves you very much, but I could never forgive myself for showing you that it is ok to die inside, to accept lies, to be put down and abandoned by your partner. I want so much more for you. I want you to search and find someone that treasures you, chooses you, pursues you, cares for you even in your hardest times.
Also, I am 100% sure that you prefer me like this, alive and present 50% of the time vs dead to the world 100% of the time.
I hope one day you’ll understand the love that brought me here.
In July I combined all your birthday letters into a file so that you could have them after I died. The years stretching ahead of me seemed impossible and I never once thought I would make it to writing your 8th birthday letter. Here I am, and oh how my heart is filled with the hope that I will write many, many more.
You are a gift my girl. I love you endlessly.
Mama
