My Julianna Amelie Grace. Eight years. How is it possible? We’ve sure lived some life together since then. More changes than I ever could have imagined possible on the stormy night you were born. More joy. More sadness. More celebration. More heartache. More crazy, brilliant, goofy, silliness. Transition after transition after transition. And through it all, you.

You.

You, my lovebug. My fashionista with the inimitable sense of style. My goofball. My velcro baby. Girl of big feelings and and loud voice. Drama Queen. Baby Talker. Tiny Dancer. Earth Shaker. Move Maker. Budding artist. Wise Guru. Fierce Lioness. Music Lover. My girl.

You like to take up space. In the bed. In a room. In life in general. You show up, full force, like a hurricane. Shy at first, once you warm up there is no stopping you. You’ll talk a mile a minute, your silly faces are legendary, you’ve got a story or an explanation for every little thing. You can lie with the straightest face, and if I didn’t know better, even I would believe you. I have never truly ever won a battle with you. I probably never will. The only thing more ferocious than your temper and your will is your spirt and the way you love – full force, straight on, all the way. You feel big and love even bigger.

You, my wee girlie – have taught me all I know about surrender. About reaching out my arms, turning my palms up and saying “i get it, I’m not in control”. Over and over, from the time you were safely in my womb you’ve guided me in learning this lesson. Every single day you teach me more. If there is a gift you were brought here to give me, it is that. Before you, I imagined I could bend the entire world to my will. Imagine that? How silly I once was.

Grace. It’s one of your names for a reason. You are grace personified. Even in your biggest and wildest times, when your body is shaking with grief or anger or injustice – you bring it back to the grace that is the way we love each other. Love is always the answer – how could it be otherwise with you around?

Your brown eyes tell me that you’ve been here hundreds of times already. There is nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know, and you have much to teach. I called you guru before you were born. Guru and poet and old soul. Vagabond and dreamer and traveller. You are all these things and so much more. You are so much I do not know and so much I will never know.

You are you, and damn it, but I was blessed beyond measure the day you chose me to mother you.

Happy Birthday, wee one. I love you, beyond.