At this precise moment a year ago, I was laboring with you in our living room at the house on Osceola Street. The air smelled of jasmine, and I had lit every candle in the house. It was a romance. It was the last night of you and I sharing the same body.
In the morning, you were born, and you were perfect. I cradled you in my arms, kissing the top of your head and whispering how much I loved you into your ear.
In those first few months, we were two bodies but one unit. You slept in the curve of my arm, I wrapped you to my belly, and you nursed when you could summon the energy to wake. And you slowly grew stronger.
By five months you were sitting and chubbier than ever. Your smile melted me. Soon you were scooting and reaching for me or for little objects that you then focused mighty attention upon.
We all fell in love with you. Your daddy, your sister, and I. Your serious focus and generous smiles are irresistible.
When I think about the year that has passed I’m both breathless from the speed at which it has gone by and a little teary. You are my baby and that time is so fleeting. Soon you’ll be walking and what a toddler you’ll be. I’m so thankful to watch it all, to watch you grow, but I’ll always cherish this year that I had with you, where what you wanted most was me, when I held you for hours, and when I was all you needed in the world.
I love you baby girl, more than you’ll ever know. Thank you for choosing us, for your little spirit and all of your cuddles. Happy Birthday my girl. May the next year be as blessed as the last.