The s in smother stands for singing mother, no?

To my dearest daughter,

On my birthday, I was sleep deprived, 3kg lighter, sick to the core, and could barely bend forward thanks to your sleepless marathon the nights before. My nipples were screaming for mercy, my arms were shaking from, well, shaking, and I soon resembled a much angrier version of the panda rattle you so love to throw at me. I had to cancel all my plans to go out and have dinner with friends, to have adult conversations, to salvage any inkling of a social life, because you wanted me beside you. I had to pack our little family up and move us over to gramma's so that you could get some sleep. I had to stay by your side and ease your restlessness for hours on end 'til you finally resolved into a deep slumber. And even then, I had to stay awake, watching you in case you flipped over and fell off your favorite pillow of Uncle Adam's, the pillow I will, inevitably, have to pay Uncle Adam to give you one day soon.

To anyone else, it would sound as if I had a horrible birthday. To crazy people who believe babies really do conspire against us because they're "coddled too much at birth", you were tough to handle because I hugged you often. But not to me, love. To me, this was nothing compared to the things you've done for me. On the hardest of days and tiring of nights, I've admittedly lost my temper a dozen times. I've screamed at you and left you to cry, I've denied you of milk and pushed you aside. 

Yet after all the wrong I've done unto you, every time I've gathered my mind to finally pick you up, you, puffy eyed and teary tired, would look at me with the fondest of gazes, and smile the most amazing smile. It's as if to you, I could do no wrong. You would look at me as if I had done no wrong.

When you've arrived at the dreadful teenage years, you will not want me as much. In fact, if you were truly my daughter there'd be runaway attempts aplenty for that added drama fun. But I will forgive you for the curse words that'll come my way, the boys that you'll sneak into the house, the I HATE YOU's that'll be thrown at me every time I demand that you expose as much skin as a 97yo nanny. I will forgive you because you've always forgiven me. And I will love you more, if possible at all.

To everyone else, I had the worst birthday thus far. To me, just having you here has made it the very best of bests. Sorry I had to emo here and embarrass you on your own ranty blog, but I love you. I love you. I love you. I will say it every day in every way because I really do love you, and I will love you even in my zombie state of mind.... I did not have to do all of the above; I did them because I wanted to. Because  you are perfect in my eyes.

Forever your cow,

mama