Two Years of the Warrior Princess

Cordelia,

Two short years ago you entered this world against your will. You were fairly happy hanging out in my belly, and to show your intent to not come out, you had positioned yourself in a complete breech position, your head still in my ribs and legs crossed as if in meditation, making your base as wide as possible. My doctor joked that you were probably going to hold onto my ribs to keep from coming out.

Because of this, you were a scheduled c-section. During the surgery, silent tears kept falling from my eyes. Your dad asked me what was wrong, and I said nothing was wrong – I was crying because I was so excited to meet you.

Those moments after the doctor pulled you out felt like forever. I waited to hear your cry as your dad peeked over the drape to see you. And then once you realized what had happened, you let out a frustrated cry. I saw your figure briefly as the nurse whisked you past me – your face scrunched up in an angry expression, your arms and legs flailing. After you were cleaned up, you were brought to me, and I got to kiss you once before you were taken to the nursery.

I had no idea what I was in for once you were here. While I had experience babysitting other people’s children, the experience of being a parent yourself is something I don’t think anyone can be prepared for. Your independent personality streak continued while in the hospital.

You fought me every step of the way with breastfeeding. When the nurse insisted we give you a bottle of formula on the second night due to your low blood sugar, I knew we would probably never fully succeed. You sucked the formula down with no problems – why work for your milk when you can get it so easily?

Our first few months together were beautiful and frustrating. I wanted so badly to meet your needs and make you happy, but sometimes it seemed like nothing would make you happy.

Luckily, by the end of the third month, your colic started to get better, and you began sleeping longer stretches. During those rare quiet awake periods, I was always mesmerized by your intense stare, as if you were trying to reconcile everything around you.

We also moved you into your own crib around four months. We thought you would like co-sleeping, but it turned out that you prefer to sleep on your own. While we missed having you in bed, it was a good solution for all of us, and we all slept better for it. It was at that point that I stopped reading all of those parenting help books, because clearly you were not going to follow the pattern of any of the children they had dealt with.

And now, at two years old, your personality has not wavered one bit, and you are becoming an independent and outspoken little girl. Your vocabulary, while slow to form at first, is now filled with all of your favorite things, like “cup”, “muk”, “Bwue”, and even “fwies”. After many months of begging you to give me a name – mom, mommy, anything – you now call me “mommy” and my heart nearly explodes to hear it each time.

You adore music. Any show that has good music is one of your favorites. You sing along with the Backyardigans all the time. You can now climb onto the piano bench yourself to play piano whenever you want, which is usually once or twice a day. You want to be surrounded by music at all times, which makes me so happy and hopeful that you will continue to be a musical child.

At a year old, you were a child who would eat anything, usually with seconds, please. You didn’t like peas, but that was about it. Now, you still love your food, but you’ve narrowed your palate to such items as chicken nuggets, pasta, Goldfish crackers, PB&J, and bananas. Trying new foods is the equivalent of trying to comb your curly hair – it is met with strong resistance.

As long as you continue to eat some healthy foods like bananas and applesauce, I guess I’ll be happy for what I have. At least you have no interest in soda, although we do now have to spell out c-o-o-k-i-e in your presence.

Sleep-wise, you continue to amaze us. Proving to once again not be like most toddlers, you appreciate sleep and can recognize when you’re tired. While you still refuse to fall asleep in public places (can’t miss the pony rides, right?), you never fight nap or bedtime at home. Sometimes you will even grab a toy, climb the stairs, and wait by the door of your room for me to let you in and put you in your crib. I can’t say enough how thankful I am for that, and I hope that’s a trait you always keep.

Your two year old check up is tomorrow, and we fully expect you to continue your growth curve at the top of the charts. Already an overachiever. And yet, for being so big, you are amazingly gentle with other children. You could easily push them down and take their toys, but instead generally prefer to leave other kids alone. When another child, even a smaller one, comes running towards you, you throw your hands up to your face to protect yourself. Someday you’ll learn you are bigger than them, and so unlikely to get hurt. But your peaceful nature with younger children gives me hope that you will be a good big sister.

Even though we have another baby on the way, you will always be my warrior princess. When I look at you I see so much of myself there – the me that was strong willing and independent, before I went to school and was told to be quiet and be like everyone else. Even though your strong will can be inconvenient at times, I hope I will be able to see past the temporary inconvenience and let you express your personality. Your strong will leads you to explore and learn, and I want you to always know that you are capable of doing most anything you put your mind to.
I love you so much, Cordy-bear. I had no idea that being a mother would be such an all-encompassing, passionate task, but having a child like you, I wouldn’t give it up for the world. Happy birthday.

Love,
Mommy