I did it. I survived her third birthday. Our baby is three. As with so many other big dates, it is the night before that is the most painful. I don’t know if this is common to all grievers or just my experience. The night before is the processing of how much I miss him. The day of the event is usually full of grace and peace and even gratefulness for the life I am living.
This precious snuggle time Sunday morning was only possible because people have been helping me. We got home from Amsterdam late Tuesday and I started working hard certifying pro-life candidates Wednesday morning.
Thursday, Zoya spent the night with her aunt, so I could have important widow friends advice time.
Saturday, a friend came and hung out while we drank Moscow Mules, cleaned my house, and finished unpacking.
Sunday, my sister, mom, dad, and all the little brothers came two hours early to help the final party set- up.
So Sunday morning, we did what I wish could always be the priority. We played with her toys, video chatted with Shah’s parents, and cuddled while she processed turning three.
I would hate to have rushed and missed that time. It was during this time that she told me she was sorry I no longer had a two and a half year old, which is something I have never said to her, even remotely. It is her own mind that is coming up with these thoughts. I responded that I was happy to have a three year old and then she responded that she was happy to have a forty year old. I’m glad we are all so accepting around here.
During her party, she told her Aunt that this wasn’t even a dream, it was her real party.
She is a joy. She is a highly emotional three year old, who often ignores what she is told, and is sometimes quite mean; but she is a precious joy and I lead a blessed life.
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