Zoë Sass Pot June,
Do you see this itty bitty container of Tabasco sauce? It's nearly as tiny as you. Do you know where I got it? I'm going to tell you.
After two sleepless nights in the hospital after you were born (mommy had a major breakdown and panic attack), my final hospital meal was sent up to our room and this precious little bottle of hot sauce stood perfectly balanced on the edge of my food tray.
The nurse who first cleaned you off and bathed you was a redhead and she was delighted to see a fellow ginger welcomed into the world. I wasn't sure if you were REALLY a red head or not. I couldn't get used to the idea. (Not to mention I was so out of it and when I finally did start drifting off to sleep one night the woman in the room next to mine was screaming in labor pains and woke me up).
But the point is, when I saw this adorable little jar of hot sauce on my tray something told me not to open it. I asked Vic to put it in my purse because I wanted to keep it. If you really were a red head, I knew I would need this little bottle as a token of your sass. Call me a prophetess, because you live up to everything about this...the cutest, toughest little package of spice and fire. I'm going to keep this little bottle for always.
I will never forget how my heart changed the SECOND you were placed in my arms. Having your brother come into our empty lives 11 months after Lucy died was wonderful...AND SO HARD. As you know, Peter is not the most easy going, even tempered child. Mommy was exhausted in every way possible. There was something about you, Zoë...I don't know if it was the timing, your gender, your birthday being so close to Lucy's--I think it was just you, your amazing spirit that INSTANTLY changed the shape of my broken heart. You changed the entire dynamic of our family and the second you were placed in my arms was when my real healing began.
I associate the start of my true healing so strongly with the day of your birth that I actually audibly gasped this morning while brushing your hair when I realized it's been 4 whole years since I have felt functional and "normal".
You taught me that grief is just love squaring up to its enemy. But love is up to the challenge.
I love you more than tongue can tell. Daddy turned to me the other day and said, "I realized that Lucy broke me, but Zoë yoked me." He is firmly tied to you and we are both madly in love with you. It is my greatest honor to watch you and your brother grow in the light of love. Thank you for always remembering your big sister. Thank you for your smile that explodes rays of blinding light. I didn't think I could know such beauty again in my life.
Happy, Happy birthday Zoë June.
Love you for ever and ever more, spice and all...