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Apr 27

My Julianna Ruth

Every day, I see you. You are so beautiful, so smart and kind. I’m watching you grow into a woman, every day. You’re almost taller than I am and I constantly have to remind myself that you are nowhere near as grown up as you look. You’re still only 12. You’re already 12.

You are my last baby. Forever, you will be my baby. It’s easier for me to let the others grow up, I think. I still have you. Every milestone is not only yours, but also the last time I’ll have that. This is the last year I won’t have a child younger than a teenager. This is the last year of elementary school. Not just for you. But for me too.

I love watching you grow into yourself. Exploring different aspects of your personality, different ideas about who you’ll be or what you’ll enjoy. I watch you when you aren’t paying attention, when you’re walking to the car from school, and I’m never not shocked at how fast it happened. You went from being a tiny little baby, to a bouncy toddler, to a preschooler with very definite opinions about everything, to a kindergartener ready to face the world.

Your childhood was truncated by covid – everything halted for you on a March afternoon, two years ago. And I watched you struggle, and regroup and rebuild. Your confidence and ability to do hard things makes me inordinately proud of you.

More than all of this – I just straight up adore you. I find you fascinating and comforting and lovely. You’re one of my very favorite people and spending time with you is always something I want to do.

I love you so much – and I’m so grateful to be your mother. Watching you grow from this tiny beautiful baby into this almost-woman with huge eyes and gorgeous hair is one of the best parts of my life.

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