An Open Letter to My Daughter on Her 2nd Birthday
Bianca Nicole—
You are two! The addition of you to our family has been, as I say often, such a wild ride. Even from the early times I felt you swimming around in my belly, I knew. Shit, from the very beginning when I took a test simply because I felt so gross and wanted to rule out pregnancy, I knew. And especially from the day you were born, I knew: you were going to keep us busy.
And you have. I see how much you care about your brother even as you destroy his projects, how gifted you are at everything athletic, how interested you are in getting into everything. You love food, the color purple, and practicing your back float in the bathtub. You love spending time with your grandparents and doing summersaults on the bed and watching shows every night before bedtime with your momma. I love that, too.
In the past few weeks alone, I’ve watched your language skills explode. You’re saying full sentences and communicating your needs in a way that’s productive, even if it’s often adamant and comes with a foot stomp. You are learning at a very fast clip and I can’t help but remind you that it’s because you came from me that you are everything good.
On your second birthday, my wish for you is that you never lose your sense of self in the needs and wants of others—that you prioritize you and don’t feel bad about it, even if you think you’re disappointing me. Especially if you think you’re disappointing me. The worst thing you can do is disappoint you. So, don’t worry about me. I’m not easily disappointed.
My wish for you is that you stay single-minded in the pursuit of your goals. I love that you are always looking forward, ready for what’s next.
My wish for you is that you stand your ground and listen to your gut feelings, that you assess if a rule is worth following, and that you challenge what you think is worth challenging.
My wish for you is that you never doubt that you were loved from the very first moment I knew I was growing you, even if I didn’t feel quite ready to add to us. I have so many wishes for you that I’ve held since long before you existed, wishes I carried as I hugged a card to my chest that now hangs above your bed and says “You are magical”—because I knew whoever my daughter was going to be, she would be magical above anything else.
Bianca means white, sparkling. I think of it as a gorgeous, shimmering light—the kind that feels warm and enveloping and awesome in the God sense. That’s what you are, woman.
Don’t ever forget it,
Mom
