All mothers are excited about the birth of a baby, but I want you to know that I waited for you for what seemed like an eternity. There were long childless years without you, years when I gazed with a heart full of longing at the chubby, rosy cheeked babies that I encountered everywhere. When you arrived, my heart was filled to bursting. I had always read about the love that happens to a woman after the birth of a child, and had often imagined what it would be like. I was ill-prepared for the onslaught of maternal love and the fierce protectiveness that you brought on. I was prepared to slay dragons for you, and felt that I could singlehandedly decimate anyone who tried to harm you.
Nine years have passed since that blissful first year of your birth, and the feelings have not disappeared, but only gotten stronger. You make me laugh at the things you say, you amaze me with your creativity and intelligence, you humble me with your kind, selfless nature, you overwhelm me with your love, and you make me realize that if I accomplish nothing else in life, it matters little, because you are my greatest work of art.
You used to worry that a younger brother or sister would diminish the love I have for you, and I always assured you that could never happen. I always told you that the miraculous thing about love is this: the more you give away, the more you create. You must have finally learned that lesson, for lately, you've been asking for a little sister and don't understand when I tell you it's unlikely that would happen at this point. You asked me today if I was happy that I only had one child. I hugged you in response and told you that I couldn't be happier with the gifts God has given me. Yes, I am happy to have this one child, and I am happy that child is you.