You were planned
like a quiet wish
spoken at just the right time.
Not rushed,
not wondered about,
but chosen
with intention.
And somehow,
even with all that thought,
we still had no idea
who you would be.
You came in soft.
Calm.
Quiet.
The kind of baby
who fit perfectly in arms
like you had always belonged there.
You were the snuggler.
The stillness.
The gentle breath
we didn't know we needed.
And then—
you grew.
And with you
came something wild.
A spark.
Now you are laughter
that echoes through the house,
mischief in small hands,
dirt on your fingers,
adventure in your eyes.
You are gentle
and rough
all at once.
The kind of love
that hugs tight
and then runs off
to climb something it shouldn't.
You dance
like the world is watching,
and like it isn't.
You play
like every moment matters,
like time hasn't taught you yet
that it moves too fast.
You have your brothers
exactly where you want them.
Wrapped around your finger,
pulled into your chaos,
laughing whether they meant to or not.
You are the spark in them, too.
And your dad,
you are his.
In the way you follow him,
in the way you look at him
like he hung the sky,
in the way he softens
just by being near you.
There is something about you
that cannot be ignored.
Even as the youngest,
even as the smallest
you make yourself known.
Not loudly,
not forcefully,
but fully.
Like you were always meant
to take up this space.
And maybe that's what you are.
The piece we didn't know
was missing
until you were here.
Now everything fits.
Not perfectly,
not quietly
but completely.
And watching you grow
feels like trying to hold water
in my hands.
Beautiful.
Constantly changing.
Impossible to keep.
But I see you.
Every version of you
as it comes and goes.
And I already know
you are going to be
something unforgettable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem