A different kind than my last post with the same title.
One year ago, when my second baby girl was born into my arms, and subsequently, the floor of my Honda CR-V.
My first daughter made me a mother, but my second daughter made me a better one.
My beautiful baby girl. One heavenly year of being able to sleep with you by my side, one amazing year of watching you grow everyday, one year of nursing your growth, giving you perfect nutrition from my own body. One year of my body being more in tune with yours than I can even recognize, but I know it to be the truth. One year of your smiles, your squeals, your cries, laughs and cubby hands grabbing at my hair. One year of being able to look into your endless blue eyes and see nothing but happiness.
I love so much about you, I can't even hold it all in my thoughts. I vainly grasp at moments, pleading with my brain to memorize them, keep them frozen forever in all their perfection. Sometimes I catch myself actually trying to talk my mind into remembering a moment forever. Most of the time, I understand how fruitless this is, so instead I take way too many pictures, thousands, literally. I keep them all, even the blurry ones. I can't even bare to part with even a single, fuzzy, distorted memory of this year.
I love your phases. I mourn the loss of each as you move on, one week shaking your head no at every question, the next week all you do is nod. Your first steps, first word (Mama), your first sign language ("more" for food, I should have known). All your sweet little white teeth, your scrunched up faces, your nasal pants as you crawl with vigor toward food, or your momma (in that order). All of it. So amazingly, wonderfully perfect.
My love for you is beyond unconditional, and you deserve that. But what seems unfair is that your love for me, no matter how imperfect I am, is also unconditional. I'm not sure I do deserve that, so unsure am I that I almost feel guilty enjoying this trusting, unquestioning affection that pours out of your sweet face. To say you light up is an understatement, because while I do see a radiance, you also somehow exude this pure joy when you see my face. It only makes me love you more and want to try even harder tomorrow to give you all the things in this world I can. I just want you to see how much I love you. I am desperate for you to understand what you mean to me, my sweet baby girl.
I love how you can go instantly from a deep throated scream to silently placid in an instant, just because I pick you up. Do I mean that much to you? Just knowing I am holding you can stop all your sadness, all your pain. That kind of love you have for me. I cannot possibly deserve all that.
Everyday of my life, everything I do, is better because of you. I hope I am a good enough mother to show you that. I spent years of my life trying to my my mother proud, to show her how well she raised me. I think she sees this, as most mothers do, but perhaps I still crave proof of this somehow. My own mother is one of the best this world has to offer, but like all good parents, I want even more than that for you. I never want you to question my pride for you, in you. I want you to just know with resounding confidence. You make me happy. Not just satisfied, not simply proud, but soul soothing contentment.
30 years I have had to live thus far, but if I only had one to live, I would choose to relive this past year, as it has been the best of my life thus far.
Thank you sweet baby, for this one year.