I love you. I never want you to grow up and experience all the hateful things I have. I don't want you to get hurt. I just want to block you away from the rest of the world.
I remember the day you were born well. My mom and I were shopping for some dress pants for my upcoming orchestra concerts. Then we got a call from your dad, my Uncle Mike. We dropped what we were doing and rushed to the hospital. I will admit I was pretty annoyed about the fact that you were more important than I was at the moment, being a pre-teen. But I was excited to see my new cousin, knowing it was a girl instead of a boy so I could dress you up and play Barbies with you when you got older.
After we got to the hospital, I got to hold you. I just looked into your big, baby blue eyes, like my own. I swear, I saw your lips curve up into a semi-smile. I then kissed your head, which surprisingly had a handful of hair. I gave you to my siblings and got back in line to hold you again.
I never got enough of you. I just wanted to hold you all through the night and never give you back. You were mine, and I loved you -- even after only knowing you for a couple of hours, and you being brand new to this dreadful world.
The day you had a doctor's appointment to check on your ears because you didn't seem to be talking as much as the other babies your age, didn't change the way I felt about you. Even though you need hearing aids because of a moderate hearing loss, I still love you the same.
Now, about a year and a half later when I see you with your happy, and bright shining face and hearing aids, it makes me forget about what happened at school that day. It makes me forget about the Algebra test I had totally forgotten about and got a bad grade. It makes me forget about my troubles.
Seeing you talking and walking around scares me to death and makes me laugh. It scares me when you fall that you will break your arm or something. But when you fall, you just look at me and laugh. It makes me laugh too. When you motion me to see your latest mess and call me twenty different names, it makes me smile. Just knowing that you love me, not just because I play with you or sneak you fish crackers underneath the table, it's because, well, we just love each other.
Something about our names also plays a part in our relationship, me, Mary-Anne (Annie) Marie, and you, Bailey Marie. You may not realize it, but I helped choose your name. It was a debate between me, your mom, Aunt Brandi and your dad, Uncle Mike. Mackenzie came close, but Aunt Brandi decided to come over to the good side (my side), which was the side for the name Bailey. I suggested that Marie with a hint in my voice would be a good name to got with Bailey and then it was settled. Bailey Marie.
I love you Bailey, my favorite cousin.
Off to go take more cute pictures of Bailey,
Annie
