Fiona, age 3 months

Dear Fiona,

This series of pictures are some of my most favorite ones of you. Just so you know. And now when I look at them, I see you and Ray together in that mischievous little face of yours and I love it even more.

When you were born, it was a snowy morning in January. I went to the hospital around midnight, after a day or two of unpleasant contractions and an Unsolved Mysteries marathon on television. I never said this story would be classy.

In planning for your arrival, I'd expressed interest in "natural" delivery, which essentially means I thought, like Giselle Bundchen, that I'd be so blissed out in my maternal glory that I would feel nothing but love. That's bullshit. Labor sucks. Like bad period cramps, impending diarrhea, and a knife to the stomach. Take the epidural. I enjoyed several hours of sleep and a nearly painless, quick delivery and neither you nor I were too drowsy and out of it to bask in each other's glory once you arrived.

And arrived you did, at about 8:33 a.m. while the doctor delivering you and I sang "If I Were a Rich Man" from the seminal musical "The Fiddler on the Roof" which will surely be the bane of your existence whenever you introduce yourself to someone new.

Sorry 'bout that.

Mammy and JenJen were there, crying like babies. Daddy was there, cutting the cord, trying to keep his nerves in check, excited to finally meet the belly monster who caused me so much agony for 42 weeks.

Did I mention you were two weeks late? Yeah. You were. Thanks for that, kiddo.

Then, there you were, warm and squirmy. Beautiful, alert, and fiery. You came out, identified me as mother, and promptly punched my face.

We have pictures to prove it.

And I couldn't have loved you more.

Now, you're almost three years old. You hate to take baths, you have bouts of jealousy over your little sister, and you get very cranky when you haven't slept properly. You're also incredibly smart, already working on reading and math with startling success. You're incredibly artistic, painting pictures for all your grandparents and working on drawing people, letters, presents, and rainbows. And you're incredibly loving, giving amazing hugs, kisses, affectionate pats, and spreading joy wherever you go.

And I couldn't love you more.

I hope this new year brings immense joy to you, and that you don't hold it against me when I take you to get your physical in a couple of weeks and they have to give you shots.

I love you, baby girl.

Mommy