Exactly one year ago, at this exact moment, you were fighting to get in to this world. Or maybe, once you caught a glimpse, fighting to stay in the warm tenderness of your mama. At this exact moment your daddy was getting breakfast and your granny was by my side. I had just gotten a minor epidural and my feet were in the stirrups.
Your granny called your dad and said he better get up to the room.
Dr. Cunningham told me it was time to push and brought out a mirror.
Your granny called your dad again and said he better get up there NOW.
At 9:42, you emerged. You cried until you heard my voice, then your cries diminished to a whimper. They handed you to me and you nursed immediately, like you had been doing it your whole life. You weighed 7lbs 11oz and were 20 inches long and we thought you were the most beautiful thing ever created. Looking back you looked more like a head of cabbage, but you were perfect.
Exactly one year ago, you changed our lives forever. We were totally prepared and utterly unprepared for your arrival. We had all the stuff - the swing, the bouncy chair, the blankets, clothes, and diapers. But, I didn't know I would ever be so willing to play second fiddle. I didn't know that in every decision, I would consider how it would affect you. I didn't know that after an hour away from you, I would miss you so much that I would feel it in my soul. I didn't know that a love this deep could exist.
As I write this, you sit in your highchair eating yogurt and toast. You eat most everything now, and you only turn up your nose at processed green beans and peas. Good girl.
Every day, your daddy and I share a glance that says everything that cannot be said in words. "I love her" is all that we can say, but that's not even close. Welcome to your second year, dear little bird. We will do everything we can to make it as beautiful as you are.