A year ago, as you entered our world, time stood still. And I was breathless. (Delirious, sore, and exhausted.) But completely overcome by the miracle that was resting in my arms. We had the whole day, just to hold you, look at you, and cherish every moment that your eyes opened and closed; every time that you ate, that you cried and that we found the voice and embrace to sooth you.
Today, time will likely move as fast if not faster than it moved all year. You'll spend the day crawling, laughing, playing, moving faster and faster away from being a baby and into a little girl. You'll probably learn a new word or two; you might even get the confidence to walk without a hand. Regardless, you'll lay further claim to the unique person you are going to be. And I will become even more proud of you.
You have grown and seen and learned so much in just 52 weeks. And in those same weeks, you have given me an education that I didn't anticipate. You have taught me that life and the responsibilities I hold are sacred; that the definition of a good night's sleep is relative and that crying in public is okay. You taught me that parties with a 4:00 start time are awesome and that play dates can be the highlight of a week. I've learned that reservations for three and lap baby scenarios are very underrated, and that reading aloud to you is better than getting through the latest best seller. You taught me that life is too short to worry if my jeans are a little snug and that 52 weeks wasn't nearly enough time to call you my baby.
While I know I can't slow you down. Tonight, just like every night, I will try to freeze a moment or two and lock it in my heart. As we read together, and as we rock in your great Grandma's rocker; as you finally give up on your special day, close your little eyes and nuzzle into my arms so you can hear my heartbeat the way you used to; I will hold that moment. And in it, you will always be my little girl.
Love,
Mommy.
(Cue somewhere near 52 weeks of photos)
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