As a mom of three, there are three days a year I have legit reasons to cry – on my first child’s birthday, on my second child’s birthday, and on my third child’s birthday.

I get extremely sentimental every year when I place one candle more than the number of candles the previous year on a birthday cake for each kid. I get flashbacks of my baby cradled in my arms the first time we met at the delivery suite and all those chubby cheeks and thunder thighs infant days. I remember my little one crawling, then cruising, and then wobbling towards the proud mom that I was in those tiring but fun toddler years. I recall those beautiful memories of raspberry kisses and wild tickling on the bed, and how much laughter we have had, with this child in our lives – my life.

And when it’s time to adjust quickly back to reality and back to lighting the candles for the birthday cake, there standing before me is that baby, all ready to blow them out, all smiles, all grown up.

Which is why I am usually a huge emotional wreck every single birthday.

How did it all happen, from this:

and this,

and this,

to this?

My baby girl turns 4 today.

And I’m tearing quite a bit writing this:

Becky, I know you can’t wait to be 16, or 16 hundred years old, like you always say you want to be. FOUR is a number big enough for you – and me – today, so let’s just stay at four for a year more.

Happy birthday, my love.