GiGi (which we apparently can no longer call you in front of your friends. And we have to stop calling you Jane- which we never did),
Yesterday you turned six. We did so many of the things that we have done to celebrate each year of your birth- the sign, the special breakfast, signing, candle blowing, gift opening, and all that jazz. We did a few things that we don’t normally do- church, breakfast with Aunt Jenna, Uncle Eddie, and Kate, lots of phone calls and Sonic eating (gross- I hope this was a one-time thing).
Your birthday party will be less extravagantly customized to your personality and a week late. I didn’t get my act together. I am truly sorry. I think I still have some tricks up my sleeve to make the “off the shelf” McDonald’s party the six year old event of the year. We shall see.
I adore you. I am typing this and my eyes are welling with tears. Tears of pride, excitement, sadness, guilt, love, the list just doesn’t end. You won’t understand until you become a mom yourself. There is no way to articulate just how much I love you.
In so many ways you are a mirror of me. Good and bad. But the bad in me manifests itself as unique, spunky, and awesome in you.
I have never been more scared then the day I found out I was pregnant with you. So many emotions that you and I will one day discuss. And the day that you were sent to the NICU I have never been more devastated and hollow of the thought of the unknown. We spent nearly two years in this territory and every day my love for you grew (and continues too). As I told you yesterday- I love you 2,190 times more than I did on that warm November day in Thousand Oaks, California. And probably more because some days my love for you quadruples. That formula is one that your dad will have to craft on Excel or something. The vulnerability that comes with loving someone as much as I love you is inexplicable. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to love like this. Because everyone should have the chance. And I get to do it with you, your brother, and your dad but you started it. Your presence in my life showed me that it was possible and how to do it. Thank you.
Right now you don’t really like toys. You like to imagine. You are either loving on babies or screaming at students or creating a store for Christmas shopping. You are an innovator. Nothing is used as it is “should be”- and I adore that about you. I will let you in on a little secret- I want nothing more in life than to show you how to break the correct rules and obey the necessary ones. I am still trying to figure out how to do that. That is my goal. Your potential is ridiculous. Most people don’t have an inkling of how smart you are. That is such a secret weapon. My sweet girl, I smile inside when you get sent home with “purple” for hugging. Because who wants to get “gold” when it means going without a hug. Much less a hug for someone that has had a bad day? Not me or you.
As much as I miss that sweet, soft newborn, the vivacious one year old, the conversational two year old, the sassy three year old, the defiant four year old, and the outspoken five year old and what I wouldn’t give for just a few more moments with each of those Gia’s I can only imagine how fantastic six is going to be. Because it means I will love you at least 365 times more than I do today. We all know it will be more.
I love you. For you. Please don’t ever lose your dedication to being you. That would be a tragedy to the world. Happy Birthday my heart. Gia.
Love, Mommy (Which I love that you still call me and hope that you never stop.)