Motherhood · parenthood · Relationships

The Infinite

I am a little behind on the letters this year. In April, my second born, turned five. Each year, on their birthday, I write the girls a love letter of sorts. Here we go:

Dear Dimples,

Five. That was fast, baby girl. You have graced my life for five full years now. Your curly locks have changed from tight spirals to loose waves. Your arms are strong and wrap me in the tightest hugs. While I always understood you, your speech is so clear with a half hour of help each week. You still fit neatly in my lap and while the time is waning I can still carry you in my arms. You still have wisps of baby about you. I can feel them dissapearing as you keep growing on me, but for tonight– its still there. I’m hanging on and letting go all at once.

While you were still growing inside me, I had questions about how the metaphysics of loving you would work. My heart had been broken open when I had your sister. I was worried. I was woefully nervous of having another child and my heart not making equal room to love you like I did your sister. Of now, knowing what it was in for, it wouldn’t be so awestruck when I met you. I was unsure of how it would work as silly as it sounds. Yet, you came in to the world, all pale flesh and blue eyes. And, again, my breath left me and my heart shifted in ways I never could anticipate. You, Dimples, taught me how a heart takes love and multiplies it into the infinite. You taught me my favorite lesson about love– love begets more love, darling. I knew it, but had trouble putting my faith in it. But now, now I know that love is deep, infinite, and wider than I could have fathomed. Thank you for showing me the way.



You can talk. You are full to the brim of ideas and stories. You have ideas and tales so big they fill you up and flow out of you like a river. There is no way for you to pause when you have something begging to be said. The words are persistent and bubble out despite who else was talking or how quiet we’re suppose to be. Your questions are so insightful and full of genuine wonder. I hope you never lose that. Even when no one can listen, I hope the words bubble out of you instead of being trapped inside. I hope you keep wondering and pondering for answers. Some days those stories, ideas, and thoughts are going to lead you somewhere important. I never want you to lose your way.

Your face is expressive. It is a favorite thing about you. You always get your point across despite the fact your words can be muddled. I can’t wait to see all the looks you give over the next five years. You are learning to dance. You look like your falling in love sometimes while you pirouette or bounce around the wooden floor in ballet flats. You have tried a lot of things– a drama class, soccer, playgroups– but dance is a thing that lights you up. I can’t wait to see what happens with it.


We have one more summer until I lose you to school. Kindergarten in September. I hate that we’ll lose our days together. I’ll miss you something fierce. Yet, I can’t wait to see you make your way in the world. Kindergarten is a nice place to start.

I love you. Happy birthday. Your light and love make this little corner of the world brighter. Keep shining.





Oh gosh, I just spilled my guts. Please comment and tell me what you think. :)

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