Dearest Baby Mine,

Less than a day old...

One year old. What a difference one year makes...

One year = 12 months or 52 weeks or 365 days or 8,760 hours or 525,600 minutes.  It equals to somewhere around 2,788 diaper changes or 1,095 missed hours of sleep* and countless hours in the rocking chair. It equals to 9,125 kisses or 18,250 hugs or 32,850 smiles*.  But there is no number or measurement that could calculate how this year has changed me or how much I love you, I do not even know the full extent of these changes.  I will never be able to return to my life before you, nor do I want to.  I am your Mother and I know that is exactly who I was meant to be.

2 days a mother...

9 months a mother...

I cannot believe that you are almost one, that a whole year has passed, but also that you haven't been in my life forever.  I feel like I've known you my whole life and was just waiting for you to get here.  Everyday you teach me something new... about yourself and about me.  You challenge me to reassess my long held views of life and love.  What it means to really live... what living is worth... what is love?  How can I express to you my desire to keep you from all harm while at the same time giving you the freedom you need to grow? Should I be imparting some great wisdom to you in this letter?  The answers to the questions above would probably serve but I fear I am at a loss to do so because I don't have all the answers, I am still figuring it out.  Instead I have decided to be honest with you about what this year has meant to me.  About how life-altering your beautiful existence has been for me...   

First smiles...

 When you arrived one year ago, I was ready... ready to hold you, to look at you, to know you but nothing could prepare me for all of that, I only thought I was ready.  But how can one ever be ready for such a crazy, mind-blowing, rush of excitement and responsibility? In hindsight, ready really wasn't the word for what I felt... let's say I was more than willing to become a mother and I delighted in all that I would have to do. That hasn't changed, but was I ready... ready for the emotional upheavals, sleepless nights, and truly paralyzing moments of fear?  I don't think so.  You don't get ready for motherhood, you learn how to be a mother from minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day and it can be scary as hell.  

On the day of your birth, I was laboring and laboring and then... surgery. Scary things being shouted all around me and knowing... knowing all too well that I was going to miss it.  Miss the moments I had waited for, for so long... your first cries, your first glimpse of the world, your first hours would be spent without me.  My heart broke for those lost hours and you entered this world in, what I consider, a traumatic way and I am so sorry for that.  I feel like I failed you... failed in giving birth to you and failed in being there to comfort you on your strange transition from my womb to the cold world.  I hate that I wasn't there.  Has it taken me a whole year to let go of those precious moments that we can never get back?  I hope not... I am still not sure.  I fear that when you hear that I had trouble piecing together my first emotions about you that you will think it was you but it wasn't, you were perfect and still are.  I felt like I had lost that special connection we shared when you were warm and snug inside me, when you were mine, and only mine.  From the first moment they handed you to me, I struggled to define how I felt about you... I felt responsible for you and I loved you in a way but I wasn't sure if it was enough.  My mom told me, that just like all relationships, you have to work at it and get to know each other.  I liked that thought as it gave me hope to think that our love would grow and evolve over time.  It wasn't a hit-or-miss feeling that had to be realized the instant you were placed in my arms, we had time.  I missed, and just wanted to continue, our graceful coexistence that we had had up until that point, it was so very easy while I was pregnant.  My greatest fear was not loving you the way you deserved to be loved...  it still is.

During your first few weeks of life, I rarely dressed you because I was told skin-to-skin helped with bonding... so we spent a lot of time skin to skin.  I held you, day and night, and I cried over you and what we had to go through.  I felt bereft if you were out of my arms for too long and I couldn't think about your birth without needing you held close against me. I thought about how you should be loved and I was so scared I wasn't good enough. I hope I have loved you the way you deserve this first year.

From the very beginning you have been a passionate little guy. I can't imagine where you get that from...  You hated diaper changes (still do), car seats (also, still not a big fan), and being put down.  You love eating, being held (particularly while sleeping), and exploring your world.  In between yelling over a dislike or demanding one of your favorite things, you are a thinker.  I can almost see the cogs in your brain turning.  I'm not sure what you think about exactly but there is no doubt in my mind that you are analyzing everything around you.  Even now as a one year old you are cautious and curious.  You make sure you know how things work before you try it out and you are very watchful of new things that you want to master.  A very common expression on your face is a furrowed brow.  Some people view that brow and your serious little mouth as a negative response.  After seeing it day after day though, I can tell you that you make it when confronted with almost every new thing and it means you are very interested in whatever is happening.  It is exciting to think about how you will use these traits growing up and, eventually, in a career.  I believe that you can do a great many things with your life and with the talents I already see. I know, however, that along your path in life you might find a passion that drives out all the other possibilities.  I do not want to narrow your scope and send you after just one possibility... you have far too many possibilities in your future for me to take any of them away at this point.  After you were born, I reread my favorite series, Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, and came across a quote in Anne of Windy Poplars. 

“Babies are such fascinating creatures," said Anne dreamily. "They are what I heard somebody at Redmond call 'terrific bundles of potentialities.' Think of it, Katherine . . . Homer must have been a baby once . . . a baby with dimples and great eyes full of light . . . he couldn't have been blind then, of course.”

"Terrific bundles of potentialities"... what a wonderful and perfect way to describe babies, to describe you.  Never forget that you have potential, tons of it.  I've spent more time with you this past year then I have spent with anybody else, ever (other than my own mother, possibly)... both waking hours and sleeping, we have been together.  I know my love for you has evolved and I know it will continue to grow and change, as you grow and change.  As of right now though, I love you as your mother of one year, as your constant companion, as your guardian.  Love is not easily expressed in words but I hope you can feel my love for you through the thoughts that I have shared above
and in the memories we will share.
Baby of mine, I will always love you.
 

                                                                        Love Always and Forever,

                                                                                                      Your Mama