thirty-three months

Giving me "one last smile".

Dear Lucy,

You've been really great since the little brother got here. The morning he arrived you woke up to me standing by my bed, low-humming mid-contraction, daddy standing behind me with his hands on my lower back. You stood quietly in the doorway of our bedroom, observing, seeming to know that something important was going on.

When Nana and Papa brought you to the hospital you couldn't wait to see him. You sat on the hospital bed with Mama, holding the little brother, and unwrapped his blanket slowly to peek at all his fingers and toes. You said his nose was sparkly, you said his skin was soft. And you said you didn't think that Nana or Papa needed a turn to hold him.

You've also been fragile, tears close to the surface, crying for even smaller things than usual. And you've been stuck to my side, following me from room to room; climbing on my legs, on my lap, hands and elbows in all my squishy places; talking unceasingly inches from my face.

The other morning I asked you to please get off the couch for a little while, to give me and the little brother some space, to play with your dollhouse or Piggy or your blocks. You looked at me seriously and said, "What did you like to do when you were a kid?" I'm pretty sure my favorite thing was also to get all up in my mom's space, so I guess that was a good reminder.

You are so sweet to Oscar, you like to hold him and snuggle with him; you are always up for helping to change his diaper, and always hoping for a poo. You like to help him with the mama milk, and you laugh at how silly he is when he tries to eat my arm instead.

You are proud to be a big sister. When Oscar looks at you, you tell me he is saying, "What a BIG sister I have!"

Piggy was lost at Nana's house for the last two weeks, which made me cry to think about, since Piggy had been your constant companion and practice little brother for the last several months. All four grandparents looked high and low, but he was gone. Then we kept misplacing your pacifiers, and one night we even lost Oddie, and I felt like a really terrible mother, so carelessly misplacing all key elements of your bedtime bliss at the moment when keeping a routine amidst all the other changes was so important. Ultimately, you proved resilient, adopting bunny, Zeke, and little bear for snuggling in Piggy's stead; then last Thursday cousin Titi found Piggy, stuffed into the underside of a bongo drum. You smiled to have him back, and have been happily changing his diapers and tucking him in and singing him to sleep for the last three days.

Sometimes I think about how you'll never have your parents all to yourself again, and I feel a little sad, but it is wonderful to watch you become bigger, become something new. You hold a place in Oscar's world that no one else can ever have. You are the big sister. And in exchange, you have someone who will giggle with you after bedtime and fight with you in the car; who will laugh at your parents with you; who will make you better at sharing and being patient and winning arguments; who will bear witness to your life.

I am so glad that you are my daughter.

Love,
Mama