Liv Ellen is 3 years old.

Her birthday last Saturday came during a time of difficulty for our family, which is further proof that she is in our lives for a reason. In the midst of even the worst of times, Liv brings us pure, simple happiness and love (I’m not in the running for Mayor McCheese…just telling you the absolute truth here). My pregnancy and her birth came during one of the most trying, stressful, emotional and frightening periods of our lives. She was a beacon of hope and gave us all a purpose and renewed strength in the future. I find that I turn to her for comfort on a daily basis. I can quietly cry into her hair as she snuggles into my lap and softly pats my back with her tiny hands. She may not understand the heavy weight of my heart in these moments, but her old soul can deftly lift it away. She has a gift and it affects every person lucky enough to know her.

Her pensive manner, her gentle nature, her infectious laughter, her insightful words…all make it hard to grasp that she is only three. She possesses a soul much older than my own. In the ups and downs of daily life, she manages to stay even-keeled. The girl has her moments, trust me, but the balance she provides our household is undeniable.

She is starting preschool in another week and will widen her already extensive circle of friends. She rocks out to Peter Bjorn and Passion Pit. She insists on picking out her own clothing. She spontaneously starts dancing, any time, any place, no music necessary.  She is her own little person and has self-assurance that I will admit being jealous of.

Liv,

Thank you for smiling every day. You have taught me what it means to live in the moment, which is something that I rarely do. You have a secret language with your brother communicated through various levels of giggling. You are compassionate, sensitive and a gift that I can’t believe I’ve been given. When I held you close and told you that I can’t believe you are turning three, you looked up at me and said “Why, Mom? Are you afraid of me being two?” No, Liv…I am not afraid of you being two, or three, or even seventeen (okay…I am a little bit afraid of that). I just hate how time has a way of speeding through all the good stuff.

I love you,

Mama