Happy Birthday, Sarah

Note: Please forgive the ramblings of a first time Mom.  It is a little long and slightly incoherent, and therefore, you do not have to read it.  I just wanted to write to Sarah in a format that I would not lose, so that when she is 10 or 15 or 20 years old, and finally interested, she can read it herself.  How I love this girl.

Dear Sarah,

Two years ago today, you made us a real family; now we were not just a couple, but a family.  You bound our marriage even tighter, and we finally got the opportunity to be called the sacred names of Mom and Dad.  

We were and are happier with you here.  You brought Heaven with you when you came.  We felt impressed that your friends in Heaven missed you.  We would too, if we had just lost you for the next 70 to 100 years.  

You were a joyful pregnancy, and even then, I felt like a Mommy superhero, because of the strong spirit that I felt when you were inside me.  You were born gently and easily, and came by yourself, right on time.

The night you were born, the nurses took you away, so that we could get some rest.  We rested for a moment, and then Dad stood up and brought you back.  He missed you. 

Two nights ago he repeated this event as he had a hundred times before.  You were asleep in your room, and Dad got up and carried you in, just because he wanted to be with you.  He misses you whenever you are not in his arms.  

When you were tiny, and we were carrying you, people used to stop us and tell us that they thought that we were carrying a dolly.  You look like a little doll.  Just last week, a couple from Korea called you 'living doll'.  Papa Bagley said that you had a perfect head shape.  The doctor said that you were perfectly proportioned.  I guess dolls are blond, blue-eyed, with good heads and perfect proportions.  

You exude vivaciousness.  You would rather run or jump than walk. You love people and have been alert and aware of everyone around you since you were born.  Your favorite mode of travel was your baby bjorn, and then your Kelty Backpack.  You would not sit in a stroller, because you had to be at adult level.  This is the reason why our bike carrier is attached to the handlebars of our bike and not behind us in a trailer.  You had to be sitting up where you can see everything.  You hate your car seat with a vengeance.  You always have.  

So far, you have been an excellent baby athlete.  You have zero fear, and your jumping, climbing, water, and stair skills are exceptional.  You mastered the playground just after your first birthday.  There was nothing that you could not do.  You could be a tightrope walker someday with your awesome balance.

You are quick to learn.  As soon as we teach something, you surprise us by grasping it.  We are so happy that you say 'please', 'thank you', and 'sorry' with such sincerity.  You can count to 15 because that is how many stairs we have.  The number fifteen is usually said in a grand way, like "tada"!  Your vocabulary is pretty strong for a two year old.  We attribute it to a million books and a lot of baby sign.  

You are now into three word sentences.  Your first sentence was, 

"Hi Sammy", and although I was a little jealous of the neighbor boy that you said it to, he was really cute.  

You can say all of your animals from alligator to zebra, but the animal of your heart remains the monkey.  It was your first sound.  Curious George was the first series of books that Dad bought for you, and he read them to you every night.

You are our delight, and peace.  We love you deeply.  If we could only have a hundred more of you.  Happy Birthday number two, sweet Sarah.
Love,

Mom