A Letter to Juliette

Sweet girl. My beautiful treasure.

Oh I’d hoped for you.

I heard the sonogram lady say “ah, looks like it’s a little girl”. Simple words to her. A sentence she probably says several times a day but to me those words were pure gold. I couldn’t quite believe it. I don’t really cry, love, but I cried. I looked at your Daddy and he was so happy but it was different for Mama. My brain was going crazy! There she is. I’d waited for you, I had hoped for you. She found me. My daughter.

We were all so excited to meet you!

You and I were on bedrest for a month before you came, which was great because that was the summer it was over 100 degrees everyday in Texas. I know you did that on purpose to do something special for Mama. Even now, you still love to give me special gifts like dandelions and little notes.

You were a tiny pink burrito with a bow. The most perfect little cupcake blessing. I will never forget the nurse rolling us through the hospital in a wheelchair, Daddy walking next to us carrying bags, flowers, and discharge paperwork. I had you in my arms – the most perfect little pink bundle of love. I couldn’t stop staring at you and neither could anyone else. Everyone who passed wanted to glimpse an angel’s face.

Well sweet love, I’m just going to lay it out there. You cried. A LOT. It was more of a shriek, really. It was kind of like holding a siren. It’s a little funny to think about now but at the time, Daddy and I did not know what to do. It felt helpless to not be able to give you what you needed. Your brother almost never cried as a baby – what were we doing wrong?

Most things have a way of passing in time, and you didn’t cry forever. But as you grew, new adventures arose. Oh, you have kept us on our toes, little one! You’ve covered our walls with makeup, scratched a mural into our wooden kitchen table, ripped books to shreds, and tried to flush an entire roll of toilet paper at once. You refused to do any work the first few months of Kindergarten because it was “boring”. A few times, you’ve gotten overwhelmed with feelings so much that you’ve hyperventilated. Once when you were three years old, you pitched the biggest fit because Daddy and I wouldn’t let you take the car to go get food. You wouldn’t speak to us for hours. Some stories are funny, some are harder and scarier for Daddy and I to remember, because we were so sad for you. Like when you were a brand new baby, we felt helpless during those times.

What Daddy and I know now, more than six years later, is that you are so very headstrong. You know exactly what you want and once you decide, you are extremely hard to stop. It can be a gift, birdie. I pray you use it to stand up for yourself, do what’s right, and glorify God.

Today you are brilliant and beautiful. You’re still headstrong and determined, and that gives us its battles, but you have turned into one of the most giving and fearless souls I’ve ever met. You like to talk things out, know why something is, not just that it is. You still squeal whenever you see a new animal. You love working with your hands and are almost always carrying something (or ten things) around. You’re the best at snuggling. You see the world in your own unique way, and Daddy and I believe that can give you a real chance to to some good in it.

Never know when 3 balloons will come in handy.

They say the toughest metals are forged in fire and that makes me think of you, baby. You’ve brightened our world in ways we cannot explain, and we treasure you. I’ll be blessed by God to have the chance to see you grow into the woman He’s made you to be. Mama loves you, sweet bird.