Four

I saved this screenshot from the day I went into labor with Matilda. Snowmaggedon, snowpocalypse, whatever you call February 1st, 2011 - she was born at the very height of the blizzard.

It has a hushed magic about it, to birth a baby in the midst of a historic storm. Matilda's birth was not any more special than Louisa's entry into the world (birth story coming soon-ish), it just had the heightened drama of doctors snowshoeing to the hospital and my midwives discussing, while I pushed, where in the building they could sleep for a few hours after she was born. 

This morning, four years later, she woke up to another winter storm and another blizzard warning. It rattles my brain to think four years have passed, that I could be sitting here, writing this, and listening to both my daughters laughing and playing with their dad together. I remember that first day in the hospital, the hours we spent staring at Matilda's long feet and wrinkled forehead, felt endless in the best possible way. But somehow here we are with a preschooler who is wearing hot pink nail polish and who originally requested a private jet for her birthday, ("I want a plane? That I can fly on just with my friends and it's a real one that goes in the sky") but instead settled for a homemade Frozen cake and a yoga mat.

Kids age you, you know? The responsibility, the sleepless nights, the constant static stress of always, always worrying about them in one way or another. But they also let you relive everything about your childhood and that is what I'm most excited for about four. Matilda's imagination is boundless, she's living in a world where she has pretend dragons and monsters and her very special five piggies who are always being a little naughty and who have terrible immune systems. "PIGGIES ARE SICK AGAIN", she will announce mournfully from bed when it's 1.5 hours past her bedtime and we think she's sound asleep. She loves family snuggles in our bed in the afternoon and she tells us that her and Louby are the bread, and Joshua and I are the pickles and tomatoes. A seriously questionable sandwich, but she is firm on the ingredients.

Dear little blizzard baby who is growing up before I can even catch my breath, you have my whole heart. I love you in all the mother ways - a love that is both the most furious and delicate thing I've ever known. 

 Happy, Happy Birthday.