Your aunt Megan has an American girl doll that looks just like her. I always sort of wanted one when I was growing up because they even have matching pajamas. They have magazines, you see, where you can pick out all the features for your very own doll with matching outfits and freckles and skin.
One month |
Sometimes I envision myself standing in front of a similar catalog, only for my real babies. If there was such a thing, you are the exact baby I would have chosen. Round cheeks and chubby fingers. Long legs with rolly thighs. Straight, shiny, hair the color of copper in the sun on the top of your head with soft, golden curls in the back. Huge, merry, starry blue eyes and a sparkling personality to match. A toothy grin when you wrinkle your nose in delight.
Three months |
Other times, I like to think that maybe you chose us, too. That maybe you wanted a dad who could make you laugh all the time with his jokes and silly made up songs. A daddy who tickles and teases and pokes you until you throw your head back and squeal in frustration, and a daddy who snuggles you and kisses you and loves you.
Four months |
Maybe you chose to come to a family with a big, slobbery, floppy-earred dog who licks your face and sniffs at your diapers and otherwise ignores you, but who might be your very best friend in the world someday.
Five months |
Six months |
Sometimes I wonder if you decided to come to our house, even though it is old and the floors squeak and the doors stick and the windows are ugly. Did you know that we would paint and scrub and sand to make it nice for you, and succeed only some of the time? I wonder if you knew it would be messy sometimes, but you picked it anyway.
Seven months |
Eight months |
I'm not sure how it all works, really. I'm not sure whether you chose me or I chose you, but I have a theory. Maybe we didn't need to choose each other because we--you and I-- were always connected. Before and now and forever, we were and are and will be connected to each other.
Ten months |
Eleven months |
And I am yours.
And now you are one. You are just beginning. I am so proud of you, and I can't wait to see where we go from here.
Together.
Happy birthday, baby. I love you to the moon and back.
-Mama
3 comments:
So sweet. This made me tear up a little bit! :) You are definitely a great mom, Kris. Happy Birthday, baby girl!
Month 7- trying to eat her bear.
Month 8- looking very apologetic for trying to eat her bear in month 7.
This is a wonderful post and I'm sure bug will someday love reading all the lovely things you're writing for her.
This might have made me tear up a bit. Such a beautiful tribute. You really are an incredible writer.
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