I’m writing this to you on the eve of your fourth birthday. You are finally asleep after a busy, busy Sunday. I’m sitting here with the computer in my lap, wondering how in the world you could possibly be four years old already. It feels like just yesterday you were born.
My mom and dad flew in to Thailand on May 24. On May 25, we went in to see my doctor and she was a little concerned about your heart rate, but not enough to keep me. On May 26, I went back in – I was in early labor and the doctor still didn’t like how sporadic your heart rate was so she decided to keep me in the hospital and monitor you.
After a long labor, the doctor decided it was time to come in and get you. Your little heart beat made her nervous and she was afraid something would go wrong if we didn’t get you out.
So around 5 am on May 27, your daddy called your grandparents to tell them we were going in for an emergency C-section. I was nervous, but wanted to do whatever I could to keep you healthy. Your daddy sat right by me and held my hand and I can remember the first time I heard you cry. It was perfect. I cried too.
The doctor tried to show daddy that the umbilical cord had wrapped around your neck, but he didn’t really want to look. We were just so happy that you were here and okay.
As a baby, you were beautiful, but cranky. You cried. A lot. You didn’t want to be put down. You liked being held up right. You got heat rash all over your body your first few months of life. I asked doctors what I should do and they told me to keep you cool and dry.
Of course, it was the middle of the summer.
You didn’t start walking at 11 months. You started running. It made you unbelievably happy to be able to move – quickly – in the direction you wanted to go.
One of your first sentences was – I do it myself.
You’ve never met a stranger. No matter what country we were in, no matter what language – you could make a friend. Today, as I watch you, I’m impressed by your people skills. You don’t shy away from adults. You look them in the eye, call them by name, and shake their hands. You remember people after meeting them once. You love to make new friends.
As an almost four-year-old, you are so smart. You can write your name. You can tell me all your letters and what sounds they make. You can count to 100. You can draw a house with windows and a door.
You have a wonderful memory. You still talk about things that we used to do in China – the people there, our old house, the airplane rides we went on. You remember who gave you what present and where Cook Cook keeps her necklaces and bracelets.
Last year, you wanted a pink cake. With polka dots. And Minnie Mouse.
This year, you wanted a pink cake. With Sleeping Beauty. And Ariel. And Cinderella. And Belle, Tiana, and Rapunzel. Oh – and Minnie Mouse.
You’ve grown up so much and yet you’re still my baby. You still like me to hold you – especially when I’m holding Selah – even if its just for a minute. Sometimes you’ll look up at me and say, “Mommy. I love you.” It’s okay if you leave me, but you are upset if I leave you. You love when I play with you or read with you or take you outside.
I love you, my beautiful, independent, strong-willed baby girl. I pray every day that I would be a good mommy for you. I pray that you will grow up and love the Lord and follow His will wherever it takes you. I pray that your passion and your big heart will serve Him in a big way. I pray that I would be able to keep up with you.
Happy birthday Macy girl.