To my one and only daughter,

The clock shows a few minutes after midnight on November 13 ^th. It’s officially your birthday. It’s your 12 ^th, and yet, also kind of your first, isn’t it?

Being your mom who oh-my-god-thinks-she-knows-everything, I have some wisdom to impart. (I keep it in my wrinkles like all the other old people do.) No matter what plans you have, no matter where you think you might be headed, you never know what life is going to hand you.

Let’s take me, for example. I was handed what I thought was a 10 pound, 4 ounce baby boy, and for over eleven years I raised you as such. We had eleven birthdays in which you wore short hair and a lot of blue. We sang to you using a name that doesn’t resonate with you anymore.

Each year your smile seemed to fade a little more. By last year’s family birthday party, you came downstairs just long enough to open gifts and thank everyone, and then disappeared into your room again.

It’s ok. Everybody knew you weren’t happy. We just didn’t know why.

And now we do: You never were that boy. He was who you thought you were supposed to be, but he wasn’t who you really are. He was a role you played but never related to. I can’t imagine having to live like that every day of my life. My heart feels like it’s been stabbed by something stabby whenever I think about what you went through. And believe me, I think about it a lot.

But you know what’s great about you? Other than the fact that you’re related to me, I mean. You’re remarkably introspective and insanely brave. The combination of both those things is a superpower I simply didn’t possess at your age. (Even my great hair superpower only came on in my 30’s; I’m a late bloomer. Don’t judge.) You were able to figure out why you were so sad at such a young age.

And then? Well, then you did something about it. You were able to tell your dad and I a secret so big and so scary that I still don’t know how you managed it. That took the courage of a lion.

Or a yeti.

Or, like, maybe a lion’s and yeti’s love baby.  Yes. If a lion and a yeti had a baby it would probably be very brave - and also very ugly. It would be like a gorilla with a mane. Gross. It would die in two minutes from heat stroke or strangle itself in a bur bush. So the good news is that even if it was just as brave as you are, you still come out on top, genetically speaking. That makes you better than a lion-yeti baby. Let that incredible fact sink in for a minute.

Also, yetis aren’t real.

Also, your mom probably has adult ADD. We can research the symptoms during our homeschooling time next week. I like to provide you with real life learning opportunities.

Where were we? Oh, right. Here’s the wonderful thing, my love. You don’t have to hide anymore; you made sure of that. And this year, we get to celebrate the real you for the first time.

Your dad and I get to celebrate our daughter’s birthday for the very first time.

Your brothers can say, “it’s my sister’s birthday today” for the very first time.

In some ways, it’s your first birthday on your twelfth birthday. You just managed to do the coolest. thing. ever.

And so, tomorrow we are not doing any fancy book learnin’.

I’m taking you out for breakfast. And when you ask for the breakfast that’s so big I know you can’t eat it all, I’m not going to convince you to get the more affordable, reasonably portioned one like I usually do. I’m going to surprise the crap out of you and say “sure thing. Whatever you want.” And you’re going to think I’m up to something, and you’ll be right. That thing is niceness. Even your mom can manage that once a year.

Confession: I bought you something girly in a super glittery pink package. I actually squealed a little when I did, because I never get to buy adorable stuff like that. I’d bet money you’re going to roll your eyes when you see how over-the-top estrogeny it is – and yet secretly love what’s inside.

After you don't finish your entire breakfast and I don't say "I told you so", we’re getting a streak of colour in your hair. You want teal in your bangs, so that’s what’s going to happen. I hope it brings out a touch of femininity that I know you’re looking for. I realize you don’t yet see just how beautiful you are. My job as a mom is to show you that you are the whole magnificent package, and teach you how to own it. I promise you that I will do just that.

I’m buying you a new pair of earrings, and that microphone you’ve been begging for so you can start a new YouTube channel. We want to feed your creativity and encourage your love of tech. (My other job is to show you that you are more than just a pretty face. Man, I have a lot of jobs…)

I’m going to spend the whole day with you – with my daughter. My one and only, totally amazing, always smiling, finally happy daughter.

Those are your gifts, but you’re my gift this year.

So, as I was saying, life doesn’t always go according to plan. But that’s the fun part.

I love you so much. Happy birthday.