A Letter to my Daughter on her 9th Birthday

Cold, sore, tired … but happy.

Last year I sat down and wrote my first letter to you. I have composed lots letters in my head and even spoken aloud some of my messages to you in the shower or the car. Things I’ve needed to say and get out but haven’t had the time or the courage or the general emotional margin to say to your face. But that letter was the first time I wrote it down.

And last year at your birthday party - while you climbed rock walls with your friends - I sat and watched and wrote my first letter to you. In that letter I promised to work on shifting my focus on development and improvement to a new space. My commitment to you was to try to be less of a human-doing and a better human-being.

And I have done well. At times. Like all change it takes time. I have good days and bad days.

But as I sit here - a little over a year later - writing my next letter to you I can reflect back and see how far I have come. On day forty-thousand of this self-imposed lock down, I have never been a better human being. In many ways, it’s all the upsides of cancer and transplant and isolation - clarity, time together in quantity and quality, an instant prioritization of what matters and what doesn’t - without all the downsides. Like cancer. And impending or probably loss and doom.

SEE! Even that!! I’m basically turning into a glass half-full kinda girl! Well…

As I sit here in the early morning hours, coffee in hand while you sleep in the bedroom behind me, I feel grateful. I can’t fucking help it.

Your birthday this year was supposed to suck - no friends, fucking presents didn’t arrive in time, no big cake and hoopla. Christ, two years ago we threw a full blown Mexican Themed birthday party with ALL our friends and family. We had it catered by the best taco joint in the city FFS!! Team Hunt LOVEs a party and we ADORE a birthday party…even if it’s not mine.

This year it was just us. And we made you queen for the day. You set the menu - which was heavy on the meat/carbs/candy food groups and lite on basically everything else. You set the agenda - ice cream for breakfast, family games, day-time-hot-tub, sports, more games, movies, etc. You got your wish of a family camp out in the back yard - your dream and my actual nightmare.

But when I woke up the next morning - which is a bit of a euphemism here given I was basically awake all fucking night, but I will press on... When I woke up with you were squished between your Dad and I for warmth. You were tucked up and stirred and without even opening your eyes started whisper talking to me. I don’t know what you said but I remember forcing myself to remember everything about the moment. The smell of your hair and the sound of the birds in the background. The noise of the wind and your daddy’s gentle snores. The shape of your face and the sound of your voice.

That moment was your birthday gift to me and the epitome of what it means to be a human-being.

I don’t know how many more mornings I will get to wake up like that - But i know I am going to be paying attention and taking them in whenever they happen and for as long as you let me have them.