Six years ago today, we went to the hospital for an induction after a long, complicated pregnancy, and a long, frustratingly stalled labor.  We were blessed that morning with a gorgeous little girl… a brand-new experience after three lovely boys.  And what an experience it’s been!   I’ve learned more in the past six years than I ever thought possible.  About myself, about parenting, and about life.  To my daughter, who’s changed my life in so many many beautiful ways:

Dear Tegan,

I am watching you as a write this.  You’re sitting across from me, in your new clothes, tired and happy (oh so happy!) after a successful birthday party.  You’re snacking on carrots and dip and donuts while you watch Good Luck Charlie.  You’ve let down your braid, you’ve played with every single one of your new toys, and you’ve recounted all your favorite party moments with your friends.  You look so big that it makes my breath catch.

I can’t believe my baby’s six.

Just like with your brothers, my heart is forever marked with memories from your birth. The one that still resonates, the one that if I close my eyes I can still feel as acutely as I did six years ago, is the moment that we heard, “It’s a girl.”  Yours was our only pregnancy that we let the gender be a surprise.  And oh what a surprise it was!  You’d think that it’d be hard not to find out, after we’d found out for your three brothers.  But it wasn’t.  It was exciting.  I couldn’t wait to find out who you were…. boy or girl,  Gavin or Tegan.   Everyone always asked if I had a feeling one way or the other, but I really didn’t. And I know that some people have a preference, but I didn’t have that either.  I would have been thrilled with a fourth boy, just as I was thrilled with you.  I think if I’m being honest though, I was expecting another boy, but only because that was the only kind of baby we’d made so far.  So that moment, that moment when the midwife turned you over and we all saw at once that you were a girl:  it was the biggest and happiest surprise I’d ever had.  Nothing before or since has even come close.

A girl.

You were so, so beautiful, and you still are.  You were, and always will be, our princess.

And I know, I know, they say you’re not supposed to call your daughter a princess. You’re supposed to tell her she’s strong and intelligent  instead.  Well, you know what? You are a princess.  You are beautiful. You are strong.  You are intelligent.

You’re a firecracker.

You’re a goof ball.

You’re loving.

You’re confident.

You’re funny.

You’re sweet.

You’re a bundle of energy and one-liners.

You’re authentically and unequivocally YOU.

You’re someone who knows – even at six – exactly what she wants, and exactly how she wants to get it.

Tegan, you have taught me so much.  I think more than anything, you’ve taught me to ENJOY LIFE.  You’ve taught me to embrace the moment.  You’ve taught me to stop and smell the flowers (plus, you’ve taught me to literally stop and smell the flowers)  You’ve taught me to play harder, to live louder, and to love bigger.

And as I sit here and look at you, looking so, so grown up… I wonder if you know.  I wonder if you have any idea how much I love you.  Any idea what it means to love someone so much it hurts.  So much you’d give your life for them.

You tell me you want to be the next Katy Perry some day.  You want to entertain the world as much as you’ve entertained me.  And while I will support you every step of the way, and don’t doubt for one second that you could do it if that’s what you choose, what I hope and pray for you is both simpler and more profound.

If you can love, and be loved, even a fraction as much as I love you right now… I’ll be happy.

Thank you, for six of the best years of my life.