Three Years In The Making

Every year, on her birthday I write a letter to my daughter sharing all the milestones we’ve been through together during the past year. This year’s letter is below, but I also have some other exciting news!

Today I’m launching a brand new local (DC Metro Area) class. WOO HOO! This class has been 3 years in the making (you’ll hear why in a minute), it’s for any type of camera owner, and I just know it’s going restore the confidence and happiness of so many mamas. If you want to skip over the letter below and hear more about the CREATE! class  right now click HERE instead.



Dear Brielle,

Never in my life have I wanted to pause time more than I have in last month. There is a feeling of lightness and ease and happiness in the air that I don’t ever want to forget. For the last 3 years I’ve wanted nothing more than to gain time with you. And all the hard work, the long hours, burning the candle at all ends, it finally paid off. I think you can feel it too. The long awaited mommy bonding time that has finally arrived at the amazing age of 3.

I’m absolutely in awe of the fun little girl you’re becoming.

You like to have galloping dance parties through our foyer, watch Toy Story and Lilo and Stitch over and over and over (until you’ve memorized the lines – with the help of you daddy of course!),  paint with watercolors, color with crayons, and giggle uncontrollably when we tickle under your armpits.

You never leave the house without one of you 5 Minnie Mouse’s by your side and lately you’ve been asking when we will get to go on “The Small World Ride” again. (soon little one, soon)

You’ve already got a good gauge on emotion and want to take away pain as soon as it strikes by delivering hugs, kisses, and kind healing words.

You make us so very proud.




Even now, with all this time I have to soak you up and soak you in, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe I’m just getting greedy.

But it seems like every morning when we wake up you are doing something new, saying something new, and becoming more independent and grown up right before our very eyes. And as much as I don’t want to return to the early stages of sleepless nights, washing and cleaning bottle after bottle, and lugging around a fully packed diaper bag, I do still wish for those tiny days where you fit so snug and content in my arms.

These days you’d rather be running, jumping, climbing, and simply doing. Without mom’s help of course.




Two weeks ago while you were enjoying your first days of preschool, I sat down to cross a huge project off my list. One that had been eating me up with guilt for months and months.

I finally decided it was time to sort through the folders and folder of photos that house the memories we’ve been making these past 3 years together and get them off the computer for good.

When you were born I had grand plans to have a beautiful baby book printed celebrating your arrival.

It never happened, until now.

Your first year album will be arriving on our doorstep any day now. (and the process of creating it even inspired a new class for mams feeling this same guilt I was.)

As I looked back through the snapshots of these past three years with you, those moments felt like an eternity had passed. You are so far from that little baby you were not too long ago.

Which makes me even more grateful that this album is finally done, because I never ever want to forget what you looked liked, smelled like, and sounded like in those early days.

This album will help me remember in an instant.



These days, when I look into your eyes and we have a conversation I see more and more of the young lady you’re going to become.

Which is both frightening and exhilarating all at once.

Your vocabulary, knowledge, and memory are all growing by leaps and bounds and it’s pretty darn amazing.

Yesterday you told me your birthday balloons had air in them. (Where did you learn that?!) And this morning as I was putting on my rose necklace (the one with the two roses I told you MONTHS ago were for you and your sister) you looked at me and said, “Mommy is that the rose for my sister? What’s her name?” When I told you about your sweet sister Bella Rose you wished nothing more than to sit and chat about her and how you hoped she had a doggie at “her house”.

If only it was that simple.

Today though my lamb, we celebrate you.

Everything you were, everything you are, everything you are becoming.

We are so very lucky to have you to complete our family.

Cheers to another year.