To my little bean on her first birthday

At this time last year I was in labor.  I had been in labor for over 60 hours.  I was hurting, tired and just a little bit scared.  And as it turned out I had most of a full day yet to go before you were finally born.  I should write the story of your birth for you.  I should write the story of my pregnancy for you.  I should write out the story of the love between your father and I.  I should tell you the story of your name and how long we took to decide on it.  There are so many stories I want to tell you, to capture for you.  I want to make sure you know your history, who your parents are and how much you were wanted.  How much you are loved and were loved even before you were born. 

But I'm not really ready to tell those stories yet.  For now, only these fragments: 

You were conceived on a night that was both hard and wonderful. Something happened that night that made me realize your father was going to be there when things got tough and that I could depend on him to be my rock.  My rusty old heart creaked open a bit that night, and you chose that moment to enter.

My pregnancy was both hard and wonderful.  I have never felt so beautiful as when I was pregnant.  Also I was often sick and had a very painful period of back issues. But I loved feeling you move inside of me.  I loved having your companionship in my body. I spend a lot of time wondering about you.  Who would you be?  What would you look like?  What was my life going to be like with you in it? 

Your birth was both hard and wonderful.  It did not go as I had planned, hoped, or imagined.  It hurt much more than I expected.  You were not born at home as I wanted, or in water like I wanted, but birthing in the hospital was far better than I had feared.  There were only short moments when I was scared for your safety because I had the best birthing team I could have hoped for.  Feeling you move through and out of my body was primal, magical.  You were delivered into a room full of people who loved you the instant they saw you. And when they laid you on my belly and you looked at me with your big dark serious eyes, I was so amazed I could hardly catch my breath. I made you.  We made you.  And you are so beautiful.  You are so perfect.

On the eve of your first birthday, I am still in awe of the fact of you.  I MADE you.  I grew you inside my belly and here you are, this little person with a personality, opinions, a sense of humor, an ability to show delight and love.  You are exactly the combination of your father and me.  Your eyes are the shape of mine.  Your upper lip is the shape of his.  You have his long toes and long legs and my short torso and light hair.  You are cautious like me and physical like him. From both of us you inherited a deep curiosity and desire to figure out how things work.  Your blue eyes are all your own, a quirk of genetics that I'm so grateful for. You are amazing.  So beautiful.  So perfect. 

Just in the last month you have gone from being a baby to being a toddler.  You got suddenly so big and tall.  You are no longer long, but tall. You are not yet walking (though when you decide you are ready, I think you will just get up and walk across the room), but you cruise around confidently and crawl really fast with your hands slap-slapping across the floor.  You stand up straight now - no more bowed baby legs.  You are lean and strong.  I can see the muscles in your thighs, your arms, across your back.  Your body is so beautiful - I love witnessing your unselfconsciousness in the way you move and I hope that lasts for a very long time.  You are very vocal.  You have a sound to call us, a sound to direct us to get you something or take you somewhere, a sound of greeting for the cats, a sound when you are excited to nurse.  You babble to yourself when you play, you practice syllables and the back and forth of conversation with me while we eat or shop or play together.  You say "num num num" when you are eating food you particularly like (blueberries and bananas this week), and in the last couple of days you have been saying, "ma ma ma" to everything around you but me.  You laugh when I say, "That's me!" so I'm pretty sure you know what the sounds mean. You have learned to shake your head "no" though only sometimes does it really mean "no." You are practicing to see when it fits.  I ask you a rhetorical question: "Stella, did you drop that cup on purpose?"  You shake your head no.  I give it back and you very purposely hold it off the edge of the table and drop it again.  You shake your head no.  And then grin that toothy grin at me.

You have all eight of your front teeth and in the last two weeks grew two more – a canine and your first molar on the bottom right side.  You were surprisingly mellow about the molar, though it took a chunk of gum off as it came through and must have been incredibly painful.  But you are always mellow. 

You have learned to hug this month.  You hug me, you hug your father, you hug the cats.  You discovered baby dolls when we were visiting our friends in Australia and you hugged them, too.  I admit I bought you a stuffed koala bear in the airport on the way home because you pointed at it and made your "I want that!" sound and when I picked it up and let you see it you cuddled it.  Instant mama puddle. You are still hugging it at home, too.

You also learned how to negotiate steps while we were traveling, practicing up and down and up and down the one step into the room where we slept at Jo’s house.  Now you can go up and down the two into and out of my studio like a pro.  I sit nearby and marvel.  You are so confident. 

You are an incredibly happy child.  This is what strangers comment on the most.  When we go shopping we are stopped every few minutes by people who want to tell me how beautiful you are, what a wonderful smile you have.  That you are the cutest baby they've ever seen.  In restaurants you charm the wait staff and usually end up in their arms before the food even arrives. Yesterday at Trader Joe's I let you sit in the front of the cart (such a big girl thing and you were very excited about it).  As we were standing in line, a woman maybe in her 50s looked over from the line next to us and you bestowed your magical smile on her.  "Thank you!" she said to you.  "You just made my whole week!"  Your favorite part of riding in the cart is when I push you over the bumpy bit between the door and the parking lot.  I thought it would scare you the first time, but you laugh and laugh. 

When I write you these letters I am so aware of all that I’m leaving out.  How much I’ve forgotten already each month.  All those tiny things you do that I’ve already lost track of.  I wish I could hold all of it, each little wonderful moment, but they slip though my fingers so fast. Instead I try to hold on to the cloth of the moments all strung together, the tenor of our days.  It has to be enough.

This year has been an amazing journey and I'm so grateful for it.  I am so grateful for you.  Happy birthday, my little love.

 

Comments

[jo marks]

Beautiful writing (as always Dona.) I love this story even more now I've met your beautiful girl and experienced her humour, love and gorgeous smiles - I have happy and sad tears as I read this (a bit like at the airport!) and lots of lovely memories of your sweet family <3 xx

[Kirsetin @ The Hip Mom's Guide]

Absolutely beautiful, Dona. Happy birthday to your sweet little girl!

[Ourlongstory.wordpress.com]

thank you Dona! For your writing, for your mothering, for your daughter and for the joy you bring to my heart (and the tears in my eyes, with this post)! Thank YOU!

Happy Birthday and Happy Mamaversary!!!

[danielle]

she has such a wise and clever look about her :) this was beautiful mama (like brought me to tears, albeit probably PMS driven, real tears). our babies are really close in age, mine turned 1 on Monday. the growing up... so bittersweet.

[Hashi]

You went to Australia? So did I!