Tonight, I hold you for the last time as baby. Tomorrow, you turn one. A whole 365 days.
This time last year, I had just spent a little extra time putting your brother to sleep and had begun to wander around the house aimlessly looking for distractions to keep me from thinking about our induction the next morning. I was as anxious as I’ve ever been. Anxious to meet you. Anxious about how your birth may go. Anxious to see your brother again afterwards. There really wasn’t anything I wasn’t anxious about.
Maybe it was the number of times my anxiousness sent me to the bathroom or maybe it was just perfect timing, but my insides began to ache with contractions. And they ached all night long. I slept maybe an hour that night between the pain I felt in my stomach, back, and legs and the anxious thoughts that went through my head.
Your dad seemed to sleep quite peacefully most of the short night, and while I was a tad jealous about how nonchalant he was, it gave me a little extra time to focus on only you.
Every night when I would lay down those last few months and days, you would kick like crazy. Always moving, letting me know you were there. That night, I spent a little extra time just savoring the last few moments we would have together as one. I knew that in the morning we would separate, and I would never get you back as only mine. In the morning, you would begin your grand entrance, and the world would forever know you.
Lucky is and will be the world Eloise because you are a force to be reckoned with. From the moment you arrived, you were meant to be heard. No one in that entire delivery room could hear each other over your screams that carried on for what felt like eternity as you made your way to my breast for the very first time.
I’m fortunate that being born only slightly before a global pandemic hit that I was able to keep this year of you to our little family, just the four of us. I cherish getting to watch every milestone you make from the safety and comfort of our home together. It’s been a privilege watching your relationship with your brother blossom into something I hope lasts a lifetime, not because you’re family but because you’re friends. It’s been heartwarming to watch your dad fall in love with you in a way that is warm, and protective, and unconditional. And, most of all, I have loved the fearlessness you exhibit seemingly knowing that your dad, Auggie, and I stand behind you ready to help you take on the world if you were to only say the word.
This next year of your life, Eloise, I know won’t quite be the same. You’ll start to pull away from me. It’ll be slow, but nonetheless painful. It’ll start with a desire to be put down, to walk on your own without holding my hand. It’ll turn into nursing less and less frequently. You’ll likely sleep through the night in your own bed at least once (fingers crossed). You’ll begin to talk and run and have desires that are more than just me. And while this will break my heart into a billion pieces, I will cheer you on.
I’ll cheer you on when this pandemic ends, because it will. And, you will get to hug your family members. You’ll get to know them and love them. And I’ll have to share you even more, the real you – not the virtual one, for the first time with more than only our little family unit.
I’ll cheer you on when you prefer to spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s or would rather snuggle your Nay, or bake cookies with Ma, or chase chickens at Grandpa Dean’s and Grandma Jamee’s, or make chicken and dumplings with Granny.
I’ll cheer you on when you want to swing in the big kid swing in the backyard when the weather warms up, or when you fall down trying to keep up with your brother running through the sprinkler in the summer.
I’ll cheer you on when you, like your brother has before you, undoubtedly decide that Owen and his toy room are way cooler than anything Mom and Dad could buy you.
I’ll cheer you on when you tell me you’re ready to stop nursing to sleep or when you no longer want me to dress you. When I change your last diaper or when you let go of my hand.
I’ll cheer you on when you break my heart baby girl. In the next year and in the years to come when the heart break becomes even greater. For it’s in my heart break that you’ll become the the best version of you.
Eloise, may you always be heard, as you were on the day of your birth. May you know your worth and fight to keep it. May you always feel loved and give love in exchange. May your dreams become your reality. May the strong little girl you are today be only a prerequisite to the amazing woman you’ll become in the future. And may God bless you, as he did me when he made you my daughter.
Your Biggest Fan,
“Mama”
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