To My Almost One Year Old:

It seems hard to believe that you have only been here a year. I can’t remember how the world felt without you in it. I think you’ve been in my heart forever. How did I start my day without kissing your precious little face at least a hundred times? How did I sleep without the hum of the sound machine over the baby monitor? Did I really ever leave the house without a bag this big and full of random necessities? 

I never understood the posts I would see all over social media from other moms crying over their baby turning a year old. I would think: It’s just a birthday. What’s the big deal? Then one day it was me. I suddenly I found myself quietly crying down the aisles of Hobby Lobby picking out the perfect shade of pink plates for your party. I looked at you sitting up and buckled into the front of the cart, trying to grab a package of napkins within your reach and instantly wished we could do the whole year over. 

Some days went by way too fast. Other days lasted an eternity.

Some days I wanted you all to myself. Other days I wished someone would offer to help with you for even just an hour.

Some days I wanted only to be with you. Other days I would invite over any human soul who would answer their phone to keep us company.

Some days we loved being at home in our pajamas and out of touch with the world. Other days we crammed in as many activities as your nap schedule would allow.

Some days I put on make up and real clothes. Other days I prayed no one would stop by and see the spit up that covered both of us.

Some days I would anxiously wait for your Daddy to call and let us know he was on the way home. Other days the phone would ring unanswered because we were having too much fun outside playing.

Some days everything made you laugh. Other days everything made you cry.

Some days you “talked” my ear off. Other days we enjoyed the sacred silence.

Some days I couldn’t put you down. Other days I couldn’t pick you up.

Some days I googled everything and doubted every decision I made. Other days I trusted that I was a good mom and knew you better than anyone.

Some days you felt like my soulmate and a literal piece of me. Other days you felt like a new friend I was just getting to know.

Everyday was special and memorable in it’s own way. 

The things I love most are always changing too. When you were tiny, I loved the weight of your body against mine and every tiny little snort. I loved the random, jerky movements and taking pictures of you with your arms straight up in the air. I loved the simple schedule of our days (eat, play, sleep) and at night knowing that I could reach out and touch you in your basinet. Those baby snuggles were straight up healing and I long for the days I could hold you without losing a chunk of hair.

Then, I loved watching you discover all the things in your world; at first with your eyes and then with your hands (and mouth!)  I’ll never forget the way you would light up when you saw me after a long nap. You knew who I was! Your giggles came at the funniest times and I loved watching you splash through the summer.

Then, I loved watching you move and crawl all over the house; chasing the dogs to your delight. You opened every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen and believed that everything inside belonged only to you. You became my constant shadow; following me around the house and checking things out. I loved our first Christmas and the special memories and traditions we made together as a family. You were all about the presents and the whipped cream on Daddy’s Santa pancakes.

Now, I love the way you smile with your whole face and insist that you are included in whatever it is that we are doing. You explore everything and love celebrating all of life’s little moments by clapping your hands and flashing your two tiny teeth.  You love being the center of attention and won’t let anyone slide past you without acknowledging your presence. You make friends with everyone and spread a type of joy that makes the world a better place. You make people feel seen. 

Before I know it, things will change. Daddy and I won’t be your whole world anymore. You will have siblings, make friends, go to school, love your teachers, have interests, play sports and listen to music from artists we’ve never heard of. You will have your own little life and every aspect of it won’t include me. This both excites and devastates me all at the same time. I’m learning that these are just the feelings that come with being a mom. It’s a weird mix of being so sad about every day that has passed, but knowing that the next ones will be just as wonderful.  So for now, we are just so grateful for this perfectly imperfect year of it just being us. We were your everything and you were ours.  

Lots of love, 

Mommy