Dear Sarah Bess,
How many times have I had to explain that you were the
first, but are not the oldest? How 12 years ago today we became parents, but we
already celebrated a child’s 12th birthday last month? I often
wonder how growing up in this family of ours affects you. What it is like to be
the only child born biologically in a family with two siblings who are not? In
reality, I am probably toughest on you. You complain that there is no “Sarah
Bess Day” and I tell you to be grateful you never lived in an orphanage or had
to leave the country of your birth. You have a few days of attitude and anger
and the grace extended to others due to how trauma affects our brain is absent.
You have a sore throat and I wonder how you would ever withstand the pain of
your brother’s surgeries. You bring home straight A’s, again, and I say ‘good
job’, expecting nothing less.
I did not know this birthday letter was to turn into a
confession of sorts. But there it is. I am sorry.
You are 12. You have already offered our family so much. I
appreciate the way you love and care for little ones in our life and have a
heart to fight injustice. You have an energy that can change the world. You
have a sense of gratitude and awareness that is far beyond your years. You are
brave. You are wise. You are caring. You are generous. You are hilarious.
You are loved.
To the girl that made us parents, Happy Birthday.
Love,
Me
#40loveletters
