The house is too quiet without you. You’d be asleep right now if you were here, so it’s not like you would be running around or singing or wrestling loudly with your Daddy in the living room. But still, something gets lost when you’re not around. Your spirit, your unmistakable energy gets sucked right out of this space when you’re not here, and let me tell you little girl, it leaves behind an awfully big void.

You’ve only been gone for a few hours, and I know you’re tucked in safely in Grandma and Papa’s spare bed. Yet, I find myself missing you something fierce. When I see you tomorrow, you’re going to look so different to me. By the time I see you, you’re going to be a big sister. You’ve waited so long for this, and I know without a doubt that you’re going to be amazing at it, the way you’re already so amazing at so many things.

The biggest fear I had about having another child was whether it would change my bond with you, whether there was room in my heart to love another the way that I love you. That’s the crazy thing about love though–it multiplies like magic. As I’ve watched you cross the days off your calendar, and press your eager hands against my growing belly, and daydream aloud about your baby brother, I’ve found myself falling in love with you all over again.

We’ve had almost 5 1/2 years with you all to ourselves, and I thank God for every single moment. Somehow, I was blessed to be your mommy, and I hope you know that I try each day to do the very best I can. Of course I fall short and I make plenty of mistakes. I’m only human, after all. But when I see you smile, when I see the way your positivity and your bright, gentle spirit light up the room and touch the people around you, I know for sure that I’ve done something right.

I’m sitting here in our quiet house tonight, Miss Cadence, thinking about what tomorrow is going to bring. I can’t wait to finally meet your little brother. And I can’t wait for you to finally get to experience being a big sister. And I’m thinking about all of the things that I love so much about you–and how fun it’s going to be for us as we discover all the things we’re going to love about Henry, too.

I love your infectious laugh, and the way you throw your head back and just let it loose when you find something ridiculously funny.

I love the fact that you’re part tomboy, part princess, and that you enjoy putting on dresses and painting your nails while making fart jokes and challenging the boys in your class to races and discussing your favorite episodes of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

I love your vivid imagination, the way you can turn our living room into a full-service diner or an art studio or a body shop with a wave your hand and a flip of your hair.

I love your persistence, the fact that you know what you want and that you’re willing to exhaust all avenues to get it. Sure, it can be maddening at times, when it seems like you’ve got something stuck in your mind and your hellbent on making sure your Daddy and I know and don’t forget it, but it’s that stubborn streak, that fierce independence, that perseverance that makes you you. I hope you never, ever lose that.

But, most of all, I love your sweet, gentle spirit. If there ever was an old, wise soul in a young body, it’s you, baby girl. You’ve got an amazing intuition. You see and hear and feel the world in a way very few others do. You are so kind and loving to the people around you, to all people, and that is so very rare. Somehow, at just 5, you understand that there are bad things in this world, but a whole lot of good too, and somehow you know that the good is what’s worth grabbing onto and spreading around. So many people live whole lifetimes without ever understanding that, but not you. You’ve got it down already, and it’s what makes so many people love you.

So, tonight, baby girl, I’m wishing you the sweetest dreams. Tomorrow is going to be a very big day for all of us. I love you and I miss you and I’ll be counting down the minutes until I see you.

Love,

Mommy

About the Author Lori Romano

I am a writer, photographer, wife, mother, dog owner, half-assed housekeeper and a self-proclaimed coffee and chocolate addict. One day, I will write a book.

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