To my dear sweet goose,

When you were young, I started calling you goose.  It started a shortened term for silly goose, but someone once said to me, ‘Like goose from topgun!’ and yes, that is just as fitting, if not more so, than silly.  For five years, you’ve been my sidekick, always there.  I’ve toted you everywhere – from endless trips to Target (an ongoing joke with your Mimi that you were able to identify the sign before anything else), to the mall (you now roll your eyes when we go into JCrew), out to dinners (you've become an excellent dinner companion), on road trips, really everywhere.  You’ve been my partner in crime. And I’ve loved the tremendous bond that we’ve grown.  The bond that has allowed me to intuitively know what you need to talk, when you need a hug, when you need space.  It’s so special and sacred and wonderful.  It’s really exactly what you hope your relationship with your child will be like when you first learn that you are going to become a mother.   You've tested me, stretched me, and helped me become a better, stronger person.

And now our world is about to drastically change in ways that you won’t entirely understand or appreciate nor will we for that matter.  I wish that this was a change that I could prepare you for, almost protect you from in some ways.  Unfortunately, it won’t work like that.  We will go from our small little world, to one much larger, with a greater need to share, to split our attention and time in the blink of an eye.  I imagine there will be a lot of hugs & kisses, a lot of tears, and a lot of things in between.  What I do know about you is this:

We love you more than words could possibly express.  That love will continue to grow and it will become richer and deeper and even better than before.  You are already an amazing big brother. Long before your campaign for human siblings, you treated and even called Coco your sister.  You’ve cared for her, protected her, perhaps even harassed her a little in the way that a true older brother would.  And since I’ve become pregnant, you’ve been incredibly sweet to your sisters: telling them good morning when you wake up, kissing my stomach before you leave to go to school, and saying good night to them before you go to sleep.  I know that you will guard and protect these girls, perhaps much to their dismay when they are older.  I know that you will love them, read to them, and teach them all sorts of marvelous things about dinosaurs and Star Wars, legos and superheroes.  I know that there will be times where you will not get along, where they may gang up on you, and you will wish you had never asked for siblings.  I want to assure you, all of that is perfectly normal.  It’s what being a big brother is all about.  Regardless of them testing you, you are going to continue to fiercely love these girls and be an amazing big brother.

In the meantime, I ask for your patience and understanding.  We’ll have to be more careful with each other when these girls arrive.  They are going to require extra care that sometimes might make it seem as if you aren’t getting the attention you once did.  For that my heart is already breaking, because I always want you to know that you are loved, you are cherished, and you are never not a priority – there are simply two more priorities in the mix now.  And I promise you that with a little patience and time, we’ll find a way to a new normal. 

I can’t take credit for this quote, but I read it the other day and immediately thought that it was the best way to describe you & what depth you have brought to our lives.  

You my goose, are like primary colors. You have beautiful, big, strong emotions, and you are really sure of them. It’s just wonderful to be around: unique, bold, colorful, strong-willed, funny, kind, incredibly intelligent.  You bring so much light and brilliance into every corner of the room that you are in.

You’ll always be our first, our north star, the little bug that arrived a week later than planned and made us parents.  We’ll always cherish and love you above all else.