If You Only Knew | A Letter to Her

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To the one who first called me mommy,

As I sit here, with tears starting to line my cheeks, I think of you.

I think of the morning we had, where you climbed in my lap with your “baba” and we rocked in the chair in your room that mommy has always complained about because it doesn’t rock well.

I think of the way you laid on my chest, with your baby brother still snuggled inside mommy’s tummy as you laid your Bugsy blankie next to him, and patted him.

I think of how we read a few of our favorite stories before we prayed for him, and you shut the books, and said “nye nye” and pointed to your crib for nap time.

Not every morning goes like this.

Maybe 1 in 20.

And I thought, “this could be the last morning filled with these moments of just us two.”

Suddenly, I noticed.

I noticed again the way you guzzled your bottle, with milk seeping out of the holes of where you’re still missing teeth.

I watched the way you ran your fingers together, slowly wearing off the fuzz on your blankie, and rubbed it across your forehead.

I noticed the curls that have suddenly grown, almost reaching the back of your shoulders, and the way your eyelashes twitch before your blankie grazes your nose.

I noticed you.

I always notice you.

And I promise to always notice you.

I think of how brave you are.

I think of how our world is going to change in just a few days, or weeks…


And my heart breaks at the thought of thinking I’ll forget

to notice you in the Seasons + stages of adjusting to two.


But, to the one who first called me mommy,

You will never know the way my heart grew when I first laid eyes on you.

From the moment mommy became my name, and the way we fought for you in that room.

You may never know the countless days I’ve felt unqualified for the name you gave me, and the name that I will never tire of hearing pour from your room in the mornings when you wake up, eager to give your first squeeze hug of the day.

The moments I marvel at the gift you are, as you run down our gravel drive with dadd  and get the mail, and in the simple moments you steal my heart daily.

The moments you curl up next to me close enough to hear the suckling of your fingers,

as you push your way to comfort,

and I pause to take it in.

You’ll never know the fear I have of losing you to time, or for it slipping away from me slowly, as you grow.

…the fear of forgetting to savor these precious moments with you.

But, I pray you’ll know of the adventures we’ve shared as just us two,

and the moments we’ll continue to have, as I promise to always notice you.

I pray you’ll know from stories of the first few nights home with you, and how we binged on DVR shows, and ate mac and cheese at 4:00am, in hopes that in some way, that powdery fake cheese substance would give us super powers, or a baby manual for life.

The first bath, sleepless nights, fevers, belly aches, belly laughs.

Your first words, steps, squeeze hugs, and so easily falling into a full time roll of stealing our hearts.

I pray you’ll know of the adventures we’ve shared as just us two.

The moments we’ll continue to have, as we promise to always notice you.


And I know the gentle reminder will be your sad eyes, when you may see mommy and daddy rocking someone new, and sharing our time.

It may be in attention tantrums, or needing your quality time back with us.

But, to the one who first called me mommy,

I promise to be intentional, to continue to pursue and fight for our time, to always notice you.

To marvel at the moments I never knew my heart could hold so dear, to remember that you’re still little, and you still need mommy.

To the moments I will need to pick my beating heart off the floor, seeing you become “big sister” and learn of a whole new love, you may never had known existed, and I am so happy to give you that.

And I pray that someday, you will know how you first,  became my entire world
changed my entire world, and will always be my world.


Love, Mommy

the name you first gave me.

Photo Credit:

Rachel Shomsky Photography – thank you – we love and appreciate your heart, talent + hustle!

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2 observations on “If You Only Knew | A Letter to Her
  1. Pingback: A Letter To My Baby On Her First Day Of School - The Pause Pursuit

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