Dear Three-Year-Old Rya D.,

Three years ago, I scheduled a C-section as casually as I would a pedicure. It was really that simple. I chose November 17th so you could share your birthday with your grandfathers—Papi Balent and Papa Currier. Four days before your actual due date, I checked into the East Cooper Medical Center for a 12:30PM appointment, and 33 minutes later you were born without any pain or pushing. It was really that simple. You continue to live your life as simply as you entered this world.

For most of your life I thought you were the serious one in our wacky family, but this past year you’ve pleasantly surprised me with a very dry sense of humor. One evening, I noticed your bedroom light on past 9PM and when I stormed upstairs I found you playing with your dollhouse. I demanded, “Rya, get in bed now! It’s way past your bedtime!” You placed the tiny dollhouse bed on the floor, sat on it, and as serious as cancer said, “I can’t sleep in this bed; Rya too big!” Another funny incident that sticks out in my mind deals with the disgusting fake-plastic-rabid-rat that we display at Halloween. Throughout the holiday season, you would periodically hug the repulsive thing and call it “Mama”— that's wicked funny!  Trust me, this sense of humor will carry you through the toughest times in life—I am so thankful that you have it!

You finished speech therapy this year, yet, a few months later the State of South Carolina called me saying that they wanted to test you for the “special needs” program. I’d be a liar to say that phone call didn’t bother me. One thing you can always depend on from me is honesty, Rya. I actually spent 10 minutes in the stairwell of Arcadia Publishing “pulling myself together”. You went through a series of tests and passed them all—thankfully. But, please know that if you hadn’t passed, I would have had your back. There was a Plan B. I always have a backup plan. That’s another thing you should know about me.

So back to this simple way of life—you continue to be very easy going with an occasional 3-year-old outburst. You’re easily entertained, you make me laugh unintentionally, you’re ridiculously gorgeous and, above all, you have a kind heart. A mother couldn’t ask more. You’re a dream. Don’t ever wake me up.

All my love,
Mama