Three Years of You — A Love Letter to My Daughter on Her 3rd Birthday 💛

Aruneeta Srivastava
Jul 30
3 min read

Updated: Sep 10

On 25th July, you turned three.Three years of joy. Three years of jumping on beds. Three years of negotiating bedtime like a tiny lawyer in footie pajamas.

Pregnancy Test — The first time I got to know, you were coming into our lives

From the moment you arrived, life has been louder, messier, brighter — and so much better.

You’ve grown from a squishy little burrito who could barely hold her head up… to a sassy, smart, unstoppable little human who thinks stairs are for climbing at speed, furniture is for parkour, and silence is suspicious.

You, my kiku, are not just a child. You are a force.

Your birth story itself was nothing short of epic.

72 hours of labour. That’s three sunrises, two sleepless parents, and one very determined little goddess making her grand entry into the world.

And oh, what an entrance it was.

Just three days before you were born, I stood in front of the largest statue of Goddess Lakshmi I’d ever seen. Something stirred deep within me. I just knew — without a scan or a doubt — that you were a girl. That you were divine. That you were her, in your own form.

You came into our lives, and suddenly, so did blessings.

✨ On your 1st birthday, we bought our second family car.

✨ When you turned 2, Papa got a wonderful new opportunity that changed everything for us.

✨ And this year, as you turned 3, we moved into our beautiful new home — full of sunshine, warmth, and your echoing laughter.

You are truly our Lakshmi — in spirit, in soul, and in the way abundance follows your tiny footsteps.

And you? You’ve grown in ways I still can’t believe.

From wobbling around in onesies to now running, jumping off beds (and tables), dancing in front of mirrors, and asking deep questions like, “Why do stars sleep in the morning?”

You don’t just speak clearly now — you feel deeply.

You sense moods, offer comfort, and say things like,

“Mumma, don’t pick me up. Doctor said your tummy will hurt.”

”Wait — how does a 3-year-old know and remember that?Kiku, you left me speechless (and a little teary) with that one.

You don’t just love deeply — you notice. You notice when I’m tired. You check if my head hurts. You offer hugs and solutions with the seriousness of a doctor and the tenderness of a best friend.

Baby and mom — The first time I held you close to my heart

This year, you started school. You made friends, learned songs, and had your first stage performance. You danced your heart out (and forgot a few steps), but looked so proud doing it. We were bursting with joy — and recording from four angles.

Your 3rd birthday was simple but sweet —One cake with Dadaji and Dadiji,One with your giggling gang of friends,And one just with Mumma and Papa, where we cut the cake early because Mumma had a migraine (and you said, “It’s okay, we’ll cut cake now!” — you little problem-solver).

But, my love, this birthday came wrapped in something more.A quiet kind of grief. Just a month ago, we lost a baby — your would-be sibling.And in those heavy days, when I was aching and

numb, you became my light.

You didn’t know what had happened. But you knew I needed you.Your laughter, your hugs, your tiny hands cupping my face —You brought me back to life, one smile at a time.

You are my Sunshine Baby —Not just because you were born in July,But because even on the darkest days, you shine.

Kiku, you’re clever, cheeky, compassionate, chaotic — and absolutely perfect in your own wild way.You challenge me, teach me, exhaust me… and fill my life with a love I didn’t know was possible.

You are a firecracker in a princess dress, a healer in a high ponytail.

You are the reason our lives feel full, grounded, and glowing.

You are the greatest gift we never knew we needed — and now we can’t imagine life without.