On the Eve of Four.

Dear Ellie,

Four years ago, Daddy and I were at the hospital.  We went on a Wednesday night, very late, after we went out for dinner and talked about meeting you on Thursday.  The doctors were going to give me some special medicine to help you hurry up and meet us.

We'd been waiting for you for awhile.  Even though your due date was March 3, the doctors told us that babies with duodenal atresia are lucky to go to 34 weeks.  That would have been the end of January or early February.  Mommy's friends planned a party for you super fast!

We ended up waiting a long time for you, so on March 3, we were very ready for your birth.  You had other plans, and were born on March 4.  (Friday.  Not Thursday.)

There was a time when I was really scared for you to be born.  I was scared of your tummy surgery.  I was scared when the doctors fixed your heart and gave you your zipper.  And, as silly as it seems now, I was scared because of your Down syndrome.  Mommy actually worried that you wouldn't talk!

Ellie, thank you for being you.  Thank you for being funny and sweet and stubborn.  Thank you for showing me that Down syndrome isn't scary, and for being way tougher than Mommy and Daddy when the doctors had to fix your tummy and heart.

My favorite things about you right now:

If someone is sad, you go to them and tell them, "Be happy!"

You insist you aren't tired, but you'll curl up to sleep next to Daddy or me.

You are very literal and make me laugh.  The other day when I used the phrase, "Who knows?" you responded, "I have a nose and Mom has a nose!"

You are becoming more responsible and helping clear your plate, throw away trash, and get things when Mommy and Daddy ask.  (For example, "Go get your shoes.")  That may not seem like a big deal, but your listening ears haven't always been the best.

I'm proud that you want to learn your letters and numbers, and that you must be learning something at school because you surprise me with new knowledge.

Ellie, you have two speeds - on and off.  You keep us on our toes.

You are wonderful and beautiful and I can't imagine life without you.  I'm writing this a bit earlier than it will post, thanks to the unexpected day off we had.  You are asleep next to me, after insisting on "NO NAP!  Just a rest in Mommy and Daddy's bed."  One of your hands in on my shoulder and typing this is awkward, but I'm afraid to move you and wake you up.

Happy almost-four.

Love, Mommy