Two and a half years ago, a doctor told us you were pretty much a miscarriage—85% chance. The news was given in an awfully dismissive manner, he might as well have finished it with, “that’s the way the cookie crumbles” and a shrug. I don’t think that doctor realized how close he came to having an angry man in a kilt fly across his desk and damage his face. Your Mother’s fingernails, when properly buried into my forearm can have a drastic effect. Instead, we decided he will no longer work for us.
The journey leading to your pregnancy was littered with heartbreak and disappointment. Every day I still think about you and your sister’s two lost siblings. The path of your pregnancy was littered with moments of terror and unrelenting determination. I was so scared back then. I was scared for you, I was scared for your Mom. Those days were so stressful.
It galvanized us. We earned you.

You fought through it all. You fought along with us. I think you might have messed with us a few times too. Actually, knowing who you are today, I don’t think you messed with us, I know it.

Today is the two year anniversary of us finally getting to meet you, and you are still a fighter. You still fight passionately for what you believe in. Granted, sometimes the things you passionately believe in are a blue plastic princess shoe or a beaded necklace that exploded all over the living room (found another bead earlier this week—behind the TV Stand), but you’re two years old, those are still pretty acceptable things to believe in.
Anyway, here you are, mischievous, delightful, adorable and exasperating. I just wanted to say

NO! DO NOT THROW YOUR SIPPIE CUP WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED WITH YOUR MILK!
Actually, let me clear my throat, that isn’t what I was trying to say. Seriously, what I really want to tell you is you are such an incredible treasure. Meeting you and raising you is one of the greatest honors I have ever been given. I Love You so much!
Happy Birthday to Slightly, my Regina Bambina!