Fig turned two on Thursday! I keep saying this, but I can’t believe it. We celebrated her birthday on Saturday afternoon with our family. My thoughts about all of this aren’t organized but I’m sharing them anyway.

I’m sitting here typing this two hours after the party ended. My heart is full to bursting. So many people love my sweet girl. Even though the cake wasn’t picture perfect, it tasted great and Fig loved it. I think she liked the gluten free brownies more. If she could have had cake icing on the brownies, that probably would have been her perfect dessert. She was too excited to sit still to open presents, but we eventually got her to perch in my mom’s lap and open things. Wow, oh wow, did she get some great stuff! Some cute clothes and shoes and lots of fun toys, including some Frozen gear, which is her favorite. She got her first pair of sandals and other fun stuff from MeMe and Grandaddy, and Gramma and Poppa got her a wagon. The biggest hit of the party was the little piano that her dad and I got for her. She was so excited to sit down and bang on the keys. I nearly cried watching her. She was so full of joy. It was the best party I’ve ever thrown. (Though the bar is pretty low on that, if I’m being honest.)

More birthday-related but non-party thoughts.

I love being her mom. She’s a magical girl. She’s so smart and strong and curious and independent. She is beautiful and caring. She loves to laugh and sing. She dances and runs and bounces. She wants to jump so badly but just can’t seem to quite do it yet. Her smile steals my breath every single time. When she’s super happy, she gets a little dimple below her right eye that is the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.

Being her mother has been the most overwhelming, vulnerability-inducing thing I’ve ever done. The love I feel for her isn’t what I expected. I think I expected something soft and warm, like familial love but deeper and more all encompassing. I was right about all encompassing, but the love I got was something fierce and sharp and overwhelming. I want so many good things for her and I would fight anyone who tried to hurt her.

Since the moment she was born, I have spent every single second concerned with whether or not she is breathing, healthy, safe. For the rest of my life, I will spend every single second concerned with whether or not she is breathing, healthy, safe. It makes me wonder if I should text my mom every hour just to let her know I’m ok.

I’ll get back to posting about Things in the next week or two, but really, this little girl is the best thing I’ve ever done.