Sharva, when you are reading this someday, I hope you know how deeply you were loved from the very beginning by everyone. But I also want you to know something honest about the days after you were born—because love can be beautiful, full, and complicated all at once.
Before you arrived, I was already a mom—a dog mom. Stella and Happy were my first babies. They had my routines, my quiet moments, and my whole heart. And then you were born, and suddenly my arms—and my life—were wonderfully full of you. After you came home, everything revolved around keeping you safe, fed, and loved.
In the middle of that joy, I felt something unexpected: dog mom guilt. I worried about Stella, who was with us, watching our days change. Walks were cancelled. Cuddles had to wait. Meals were late. But I hoped she knew that even when my hands were busy holding you, my heart still reached for her just the same.
And then there was Happy. Happy wasn’t physically with us anymore when you were born. And after you arrived, I learned how to love her in a new way—in her absence. I loved her quietly, in memories, in photos, in moments when I caught myself looking for her. Loving Happy didn’t stop just because she was gone. It became softer, but just as real.
What I didn’t know yet was that love doesn’t compete. I could love Happy even though she wasn’t here. I could love Stella while she walked beside us into this new chapter. And I could love you—fully, fiercely, endlessly—without taking anything away from either of them.
Stella stayed with us as we became a family of four again, adjusting to life with a baby boy and teaching me patience all over again. Happy stayed with us too, just differently—woven into our story, part of who we were before you and part of who we became after.
So Sharva if you ever wonder where you learned how to love deeply, gently, and without limits—know that it came from a heart that learned to hold grief and joy at the same time. You didn’t replace anyone. You added to everything.
There are two souls I want to introduce you to today. One walks beside us still, and one walks with us in a way we can’t see—but both have been part of your story since before you were born.
The first is my soul dog Happy, the one who loved me and your dadda long before we knew you. When I was six months pregnant with you, she suddenly left this world. My body was carrying new life, and my heart was learning how to survive loss. It felt impossible to hold joy and grief at the same time—but somehow, I did. And somehow, she never really left.
Through every kick, every quiet moment, every time I rested my hands on my growing belly, I felt her there. I truly believe she stayed close, watching over us, protecting you even before I could hold you in my arms. I know it sound crazy but I could literally feel her presence in the OT the day you were born.
Today is Happy’s birthday—the first one since she passed. And on this day, I want to introduce you to her. She was gentle, loyal, and deeply intuitive. She loved without conditions and understood us without words. I believe she knew you too. I believe she felt you growing and knew her role was changing—not ending.
And then there is Stella—my other baby girl. She is here with us, right now, filling our home with warmth, softness, and life. Stella carries pieces of the love that came before her. In ways you won’t understand yet, she helps me feel grounded. She comforts me when memories feel heavy, and she reminds me that love continues forward.
I like to think Stella knows she isn’t alone in watching over you. That she and Happy will always be connected—one here, one beyond—both loving you fiercely in their own ways. I believe you are protected in special ways. By the sister who walks beside you every day. And by the one who walks ahead of you, guiding quietly.
You may never meet one of them in this lifetime, but you will grow up surrounded by both their love. Because love doesn’t disappear—it transforms, it stays, it watches.
So on Happy’s birthday, I celebrate both my baby girls. And I celebrate you. Two dogs. One little boy. All connected by love.
Happy birthday, my angel girl Happy. Stella is taking great care of us. And your little brother is always safe. 💙🧿
Mumma with Happy and StellaDadda with Happy and Stella
You left us before you could meet Sharva, but you will never be gone from my heart. I still love you in the quiet ways—through memories, photos, and the space you left behind that will always be yours. You were part of our family first, and that will never change.
I believe you never really left me. After leaving this earth, you became my guardian angel—watching over me, protecting me, and guiding me through my pregnancy with gentle love. Because of you, I felt safe and supported, and Sharva entered the world healthy, peaceful, and happy. Your love simply changed form, and it’s still with us every day.
Right now when my arms are full with Sharva, my love for you didn’t disappear. It simply learned how to exist without you here. You are still spoken about, still remembered, still loved—softly, gently, endlessly. Thank you for loving me before I became his mom. Thank you for making me your mom!
You watched our world change, when Sharva arrived and walked right into this new life with us. Even when the days got louder and my attention was split, your love never wavered. You adjusted, you waited, you stayed close.
You are my anchor during this new chapter. With your quiet presence and steady love, you keep me grounded through the beautiful chaos of welcoming Sharva. You remind me to slow down, breathe, and stay rooted in the moment—offering comfort, balance, and unconditional love when I need it most.
Thank you for growing alongside Sharva—for teaching us loyalty, gentleness, and what unconditional love looks like without saying a word. You remind me every day that love isn’t about less time together, but about staying present through change.
