One Fine Year

Dear Harper,

Today, you are one year old. I have repeatedly held up my index finger at you and exclaimed, "Yay! Harper is one year old! How old is Harper?! One!" in hopes that you'll realize that very same finger you use for pointing can express your age. As we were practicing this at lunch yesterday, it occurred to me that I should have started trying to teach you that about a month ago. Oh well. Perhaps we'll start working on the finger representation of "two" tomorrow. That'll show 'em.

It is a real shame that you don't realize the significance of this day. Daddy has spent the last couple of days saying, "Last year at this time. . ." and reminding me about our packing for the hospital, taking pictures before we left, getting ready for you to be born, showing you off for the first time. I can't say anything back to him because every time I think about the fact that once you weren't even out in the world with us, my voice catches in my throat and tears come to my eyes. How is it possible there was a time that you didn't wake me up in the morning? How is it possible there was a time when I couldn't lift you up and feel the weight of your head on my shoulder? There are days now that I really have trouble remembering who I was before I became your Mommy. And, while I do miss spending entire days with grown-ups, Happy Hour, sleeping-in (and I don't mean until 8 a.m.), and lots of other little things from my life "before," I wouldn't give you back for any of it.

Before you were actually born, one of my favorite things was to get in bed at night and watch you move in my tummy. Yes, I could actually see it. I loved the swishy sensation of you finding your way in that world. It felt like a secret we shared. I thought I would miss that when you finally arrived in the light and air. Silly me. The you I can hold in my arms is better than I ever imagined.

We have good days and bad days, you and I. Sometimes we both wake up cranky. You don't feel like eating or sleeping or playing. You want the opposite of whatever I am trying to give you at any moment in time. I love you everyday and some of those days I still don't feel like singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" for the hundredth time in a row, or ignoring the ache in my back so you can walk holding onto my hands. The loving you part doesn't mean you can have anything you want, anytime you want it. It doesn't mean you'll always be happy. It does mean that Daddy and I will do our best always to do what is good for you, even when you don't like it. And I do apologize for the grumpy days, even though I'm sure there will be more. If you forgive me mine, then I'll forgive you yours (yes, even the teenage ones).

I think any parent has lots of ideas about what kind of parent they'll be and what kind of kid they'll have. I think part of every kid's job is to work each day to show the parents how terribly mistaken most of those ideas are. . .

Even before you were born, you made it pretty clear that you liked things a certain way. Even two doctors pushing very hard on my very pregnant stomach (which is less than comfortable, by the way) couldn't convince you to put your head down and be born the way Daddy and I imagined. So even though your birth was nothing that we thought it would be, once you'd arrived, none of that mattered.

Month by month, it seems, you are finding new ways to show me that I need to let go of all my expectations. My job is much less to help you be who I imagined you'd be, and much more to lend a hand as you reveal to all of us who you already are. I have a feeling most of it is quite clearly set up inside you, and you'll let us in (or let more of you out) one delightful bit at a time. I thought I was patient and flexible before you were born. . . ha!

It's late, so late that in about one more minute it won't be your birthday anymore. I think I could write forever about the ways you amaze me and everything you're teaching me. Instead I should probably go to bed, you'll be waking me up in a matter of hours. Happy first birthday Harper, take your time growing up, I still have so very much to learn.

Love,
Mommy