Celebrating Meera

Three years ago today I was very pregnant, 11 days past my due date, and anxiously anticipating the arrival of Meera Grace. The next day I checked into the hospital to begin induction. 26 hours later, Meera was born.

Our bambinos birthdays are a big deal for us. We celebrate them. Unabashedly. Unapologetically. Unselfconsciously. We want our kids to know how happy we are that they were born. We also love marking the movement of time. We want to remember it all, every detail. We want to tell and re-tell the stories. We want to fill life up with all the living we can do. Birthdays are an excuse to throw a party, to go all out, to live it up. And so, in these few days leading up to our girl’s big day, we celebrate her. We do that by prepping to throw a party, by going all out, and by doing everything we can to make sure that we live it up. But at the heart of it the real celebration is never lost: we celebrate the simple fact that our girl was born and that she is here with us.

The simple fact that just shy of three years ago we were here:

And that just a few days later we came home together, happy and healthy, and we were here:

And that as the days moved along, we were here:

And then, somehow, someway, over the course of just three quick years, our girl transformed right before our very eyes. It all happened right here, right here in our little life. And the real beauty of it – the thing that we celebrate as her birthday rolls around – is that we got to be there for all of it. Gratefully, stunningly, joyfully, every little bit of it. All the days tied together. So that now we are here:

We aren’t celebrating an accomplishment, or even a milestone really. We’re just celebrating Meera. And that, for us, is enough unto itself.

We celebrate Meera, our painter. (she asks to paint almost every day)

Our mischief-maker and fashionista. (bottom left: a whole roll of toilet paper in the potty, blue pen all over the leg, and she’s smiling ear-to-ear.  bottom right: her absolute favorite outfit – a hand-me-down Indian skirt from Shalinee and Kavya, and a purple polka dot tank top – 12 months of almost daily wear and tear now, but still going strong)

She loves to dip (nothing she loves more than raw fresh veggies, chips, and dips – this is a girl who takes after her mama!). She loves her bunny (Bunny Bun, her beloved lovey, never a night-nap-or-any-outing without it).

She loves Play-Do (when she doesn’t ask for painting she asks for Play-Do). She loves her fairies and princesses (loves fairies and princesses; heaven help us).

She loves the fairies and princesses so much that it gives her slightly-neurotic social-justice-seeking parents lots of pause for thought/question/mild concern-fear-trepidation.

(…but she also has been known to drag Sleeping Beauty through mud puddles… which gives us great relief and assurance that everything is gonna be alright. phew.)

Above all else, she loves her brothers. Adores her brothers. But here’s the thing about Meera: she can quite hold her own with her brothers too. And if she can hold her own with them, then she can hold her own with anyone. And we’re pretty sure that she will.

Most of all, our girl loves life. And lives it to the fullest. Which is what makes us most proud.

And we love our girl. We love her. We’re proud of who she is, what she is becoming, all the great leaps she’s taken in the past three years. But that’s all secondary to the primary. The primary is simple: we love her. We celebrate her. Our wide-eyed wonderer. Sweetness personified. Zen in a little toddler-sized human package. Pure joy is what she is. We love her. Her essence.

In these days we are celebrating Meera. Fully.