Dear Mirabelle,
I think often of the evening you were born. Most Moms do that, reflect on the day they met a child and how that child came to arrive in their arms. But your story, I like to think, is a little unique….since you fell on the floor, and all. We smile and joke about it, sure, but deep down, I will always be mad at myself for not catching you with my own hands.

You see, everyone else around you thought they knew what was going on. And I, too, thought they knew you were coming. But the truth is, only I knew you were coming. Only I felt the pressure change, felt your head drop so low it was only inevitable you wouldn’t stay in a moment longer. Only I had that power to reach my hands down and cup you safely in them. Instead, I looked at them – I looked at someone else- to carry you to me.

Dear daughter, I promise to never do that again. Dear daughter, I promise I will be your front line of defense, your hand to hold, your safety net to land in. Never again will I wait for someone else to do what is unequivocally my job: to hear your calls of distress and to answer quickly and yet with patience, to feel your pain and respond with empathy, to hold you in my hands and bring you to my chest, to my heartbeat. I promise I will always be there for you.

But.

I hope you learn from me. I hope you learn from my mistake. Dear daughter, there is no one else in this world who can do what only you were meant to do. If you have a dream, a passion, a mission you feel called to – well, then don’t wait for someone else to catch it. Don’t wait for someone else to give you the go-ahead, a thumbs up, their stamp of approval. Don’t wait to be perfect, don’t wait for permission, thrust your hands in and get the work done yourself.

Several weeks ago, I dreamed I was having another baby – another girl. She was born in a hospital, with a doctor catching her and handing her to me. She was beautiful, and I loved her. I had birthed her in the typical standards of society. With typical protocol followed, standards met, safety precautions in check. I had followed the rules and everything turned out fine just fine.

But then everyone left, even your Dad, Adam, and he took that baby with him. I was left alone, and I started to walk outside to join them when I realized….I still had another baby in me! With everyone gone, I had no choice but to stand in the hallway and birth that baby myself. As she released out of me, I slipped my hands under her armpits and grasped her safely and firmly, and then brought her in close to me. I was overwhelmed with love for her – but more than that, I was overwhelmed with self-love. I had taken my destiny in my own hands and birthed it myself. I had used my own feminine divinity to bring something beautiful and glorious into this world. I had nourished it and cradled it in my own hands, and I hadn’t waited for someone else to deliver it to me.

I want that for you, sister. I want you to realize you are capable of doing it on your own. You don’t need someone else’s hands catching your dreams. You have the power within you – your own feminine inner light – to show you the way, show you your dreams and not just that, but also how to accomplish them. 

Now, I’m not telling you to break all the rules, ignore all the advice, don’t accept help. No, no, please don’t misunderstand. The night you were born, I had called my mother, my sister, my husband, a midwife, a nurse, and a photographer to be there by me. They rubbed my back, filled a tub I didn’t use, held my hand, wiped away tears, fed me, watched my other children. They were my support and my team. But ultimately, I was the one giving birth.

Find your team, lean on them, love them and allow them to love you. But know that you don’t need permission to challenge the norm, question the answers that have been handed to you, to seek your personal truth. And always remember that you have the power to catch your own dreams, wild and slippery as they may be, and carry them to your heart and out into the world.

I love you sweet girl. You are two years old today. You love to try to keep up with your brothers, you talk a LOT, you are independent while still so desirous for affection. You are sensitive to others’ emotions in a way that your brothers were not. You love clothes, singing, and swimming. You LOVE showers and baths. You pet any dog you see and have actually been nipped at a few times because of it. You are our glue. You complete us.

Happy two years with us, and here’s to forever more.

Love,
Mommy