It’s been one long, yet fleeting year.
To be honest, I don’t remember each day. I don’t even remember that much of the day you arrived. But here you are.
You are one now. When you were first born though, you couldn’t hold your head up. Your arms and legs flopped everywhere. You cried and you slept. A lot. Even the smallest newborn size onesie hung off you.
I carry a camera with me everywhere, hoping to capture you, doing anything really. In your first month though, you didn’t do much. Your eyes were closed in most of those photos. If they weren’t closed then they’d be wide open as if you were in shock. Where am I? What am I doing here? When we hold you now, you push off and crawl away, eager to check out everything.
When you sleep, I review the videos I take of you a million times because I can’t take you all in at once. This time I will marvel at how your right hand moved, and now let me focus on your wobbly cheeks.
You are one now, and you can’t walk yet. But when you grab onto the walker you lift your legs high one at a time and you S.T.R.I.D.E. With purpose. You stomp down the narrow hallway, and as you approach the lounge, you hold your head up high as if to hold up a crown, as if on a royal tour, surveying your subjects.
Away from the walker, you grip my hand so tightly. I thought you were afraid to let go, I thought you were being unbrave. Until my friend pointed out that you were probably gripping hard for balance. I felt ashamed to have ascribed to you something negative that wasn’t even true. I won’t underestimate you again.
You are one now. I hope we have provided a safe space for you. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. I hope you have felt warm. I hope your belly has been filled. I hope you have been happy. All this time, even those times when we let you cry so that you could learn to sleep, did you feel loved? You couldn’t see us, but we were always watching, I promise.
You are one now. You are looking more and more like a little boy, no longer a baby. But there are times when I look at you on the monitor and secretly hope that you would just cry and cry, be inconsolable, be so devastated, that I have no choice but to go in and snuggle you close to me. You are one now, but you are not going to be one forever.
But you, son, are one now.
Happy birthday, my love.