Maeve Eloise is two years old. She rushed into the world so quickly my memory of her birthday is one of surprise, of a day where one minute I wondered if I was in labor and the next I pushed a tiny, wet newborn girl into my husband's waiting hands. And suddenly, it was as if she had always been with us.
Maeve is a girl who could have not come, had we decided three was enough. Three could have been enough. It was lovely, and I adored doting on Fiona as my very-little girl with the other two self sustaining in their own four and six year old ways. But I knew, somehow, that a spirit was waiting. That three was not quite finished.
Maeve ran to us from the heavens in a hurry, as if she had been tapping her fingers, biding time for her moment to come into our family. She was conceived in a heartbeat and was born in an hour. Today, she ran in circles around our backyard while Greg played the guitar, laughing with her squinty eyed smile and singing at the top of her lungs. Her icy blue eyes glinted in the early summer sunshine and the squeals of our friends surrounded her. Our yard was full of children, our friends young and old who gathered to eat barely-risen vegan cupcakes with peanut buttery frosting. We laughed together and sang to this delicious soul, this little Maeve who brings absolute, pure, unbridled joy into every minute of our life.
I am so lucky to have this daughter.