One year ago you took Daddy’s sigh of relief over a hard week finally ending as gospel truth and rocketed yourself into this world the next morning. We all laid there stunned for a few minutes before it really sank in that you were here. And then the world brightened a few more notches.
It’s been a busy year and my lack of memory is testament to that. I’ve worked hard to try and capture your moments on paper and “film” (What do we call it now? Pixels? That doesn’t sound nearly as nice.) because I just knew I wasn’t going to remember on my own. What I do remember can be summed up in a word.
It’s been such a happy year with you. You are simply joyful almost all the time. You smiled early and smile often. You laugh and giggle without prompting. You clap and dance and wiggle. You talk about everything, a running commentary of coos and exclamations.
In those early months when you were learning to sleep you just wanted to be close. No long hours of inconsolable crying, we would lock eyes and gaze at each other quietly. You were content in your swaddle and my arms, happy just to be. I was a little more bleary-eyed but oh so thankful.
Now, you’re sleeping through the night (hallelujah!) and you wake me up with a thump against the crib slats and then a riot of happy exclamations as you realize your day has begun and your sister is just a few feet away to talk to. It’s not hard to get out of bed with a smile when laughing and chatting are your alarm clock.
My baby is growing up so quickly and before I know it you’ll be walking and talking and running after The Princess rather than clutching my arm. I’m sad about that. I love your weight on my hip and your head on my shoulder as you wrap your little arm securely around mine. But, I’m also excited to see who you are becoming. It’s a delightful surprise every day and I’m so glad I get a front row seat.
I love you.