I remember the moment I knew you were coming. In that small moment, with my back against the bathroom wall, I knew my life would change forever. And through those months, with you rolling and kicking inside me, I began to know you. You were born screaming, slick and red-faced, and as the nurses wiped you down, you cried and cried. I kissed that tiny, perfect face, the small echoes of nostrils, the curving shell of your ears, and daddy cried when he saw you (but don't tell him i told you that).
I know the science of your development, how you morphed from tiny winged embryo to willful one year old. Still, you amaze me, you stump me, and you humble me. Every night I watch you sleep, counting breaths, marveling at your fringed lashes, the dreams that make you smile and coo.
You seemed like a good baby from the start and that has proven to be true. You've grown into quite the toddler now-I'm not sure how much you weigh and how tall you are but we will find out soon at your one year checkup. You are already starting to say words, so far you say mommy, daddy, hi, bye bye, yay, and coco occasionally. You have always been ahead of the game, eyes open and searching even those first few days of life. Later, you would lift your head and arms, trying to push yourself up, wobbling, concentrated, determined. How strange it seems that a few months ago your small fingers could barely grasp at a rattle, now you crawl and side step around the house, banging your toys on the floor and walls.
You have taught me so many things this year, the haute cuisine of kashi waaffles, the joys of rolling in pillows. You have taught me that a Tupperware bowl is a hat, that a spotted towel is fascinating, that a pack of Dentyne gum provides hours of amusement. You have taught me patience, and love, and terrible fear. Crouching over you with the nose bulb as you struggled to breathe, reaching you seconds too late after a nasty tumble, rushing to the hospital with a call from you dad that you were having trouble breathing; I prayed to any God who would listen. Every day brings me to my knees in thanks for your existence, for your wisdom, for your health.
And so, my dearest daughter, on the anniversary of my most memorable night, I salute you. May this next year bring you many discoveries, may you feel loved and cherished by your big, crazy family. May you keep that wonder, that fearlessness that inspires you to dive off the bed and climb over our legs. May you continue to find the joy in the small things, leaves of lettuce or the shapes and colors of fruit, or the way the light comes through the curtains, making patterns on the floor. I will always be here for you, when you want to play peekaboo, or snuggle, or when you want to be a monster and chase me. When you wake up at four AM, crying because your teeth hurt, I will always hold you and keep you close. I will try to let you go, to let you discover, I know you need that. As I watch you explore your world, always know, I am your BIGGEST fan and cheerleader.
Love,
Mommy
2-22-2012
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