Dear Pip,
Tomorrow we leave the outrageously awesome week we've been having in Windsor to bring you to SickKids for your bloody-completely-not-fair-11th surgery.

Being here has thrown things off a bit. Normally, you sense this coming because at night I rock you abnormally long, letting tears fall once I think you are asleep, only to have you say nothing but wipe them away with your little hand. Normally, you know when I'm taking you out of your crib, we aren't eating breakfast, you're staying in pj's & we are driving while it's still dark out. Normally, we see the same receptionist who has a Teddy Bear for you and a few snickers for me. Normally, it's nurses we know, hospital gowns you've probably worn before & the operating team is used to my full-on-singing-Adele-like-I-am-giving-a-freaking-concert in my effort to send you off to sleep with something you love. Normally, I know what hallway I can collapse in tears in, before I pull myself together & start shovelling Snickers down my hatch till I get called in to see you in recovery.

But this week has thrown that all off.

This week instead I just watched you. With your grandparents & Aunt Donna. With your brothers & Dad. With my friends & their kids. With any and every stranger you met.

And my sweet girl, I was in awe.


I always am. Your light shines brighter than any light I've ever seen. And I'm constantly finding myself wanting to be more like you.

Plan & simple. You are my soulmate Pippy Layne.

You fill a piece of my soul so beautifully differently - That I wouldn't have found me without you.

So, while this time, things leading up to the surgery were outta-norm, I promise you a few things:

  • I will sing just as loud & own it like I have all the other times. And I think it's safe to say we are gonna go with your current favourite, thank you Kindergarten, "O Canada".

  • I may not have gotten to rock you all week, but laying & sleeping beside you was exactly what I needed. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I tried to memorize your face. How you breath. The way you would wake up every time I coughed, pat my back and say, "You otay momma, you otay". The funny noises you make as you're drifting back off. Everything. Because I am so God damn scared. Like always. That I may lose you.

  • And I promise you that even though this surgery feels a little bit different, NOTHING, Absolutely NOTHING, on the planet feels as incredible than when you are back in my arms.

I need you back in my arms. Okay?

I need you.


Be Brave my darling.

Love Mom