Three entire years. Three.
It was three years ago that I laboured, three years ago that I breathed and worked you out of my body and into the world - that I birthed you into the water, and into my hands. Three years ago that you were born, and that I was, too.
[I, newly a mother, came into life as new and as fresh as you, sweet babe.]
And three years have passed, equally at lightning speed as at speeds so slow I was at times positive that we were moving backward. The sleepless nights we endured, the nursing with which we clung to one another, the battles we waged to see who of us could shed more tears - all of it has amounted to a tiny lifetime so glorious and so full of wonder I cannot for a moment begin to express what it's done to me - how it's formed me, how it's dictated my thoughts and my actions and laid out before me a path so glaringly clear I'd have been a fool not to walk it.
You, my Margot, are the one who's bent me, broken me, shaped me and built me up into exactly the person I am today; without you, my Margot, there would be no me as I am now. You gave me life, you gave me self, you gave me love and you gave me depths that know no bounds.
Days have breathed life into you; great hope has swelled in times of joy, and has ebbed during moments of trial and hardship. We together have grown, and we together will move forward. I am eternally grateful for your presence in my life, in our family and on this earth, which is so infinitely blessed to have you upon it.
Here's to an absolutely wild and joyous past three years, and what I can only hope will be a lifetime of further miracles and magic.