Today is the day you turn one year old. I've known your face for 365 days. I've smelled your head and known your cry. For one whole year. Though its just one day, and tomorrow you will not be much different from today, it is a big day. A special day. This is the day that we celebrate the world getting to meet you.
We get to remember the day you entered our lives. You knew it was time and you came, unexpectedly fast and without hesitation. It took a moment for you to cry, but when you did, you sounded bigger than the 3 lbs 12 oz that you were. We always knew you were a fighter - the odds were against you from the start. But God is bigger than the odds. And what a gift he gave us in you.
I'll never forget the day I saw that faint pink line - the first symbol of you. You surprised me. Oh, I wanted you. But in my human mind, I only knew the reasons the timing seemed wrong. My body needed some support to be able to support you. Babies are expensive and our budget wasn't ready. We would try later. But there you were, the faintest of lines. We told your grandparents within minutes. We didn't want to waste a minute of your existence wondering if we would lose you, like we lost your sibling. You've been prayed for since that faint pink line.
And you grew. And I grew. And we wrestled with God over the possibility of losing you. But He so graciously answered our prayers. I'll never forget that night in the ER, waiting for hours to hear if you had everything you needed to stay safe inside of me. Simultaneously begging God to protect you and declaring that even if not, He was still good. I'll never forget the doctor coming into the room and telling me that everything looked perfect. It had not been. But God.
And I'll never forget the day we learned you were a girl. My daughter. We wasted no time in sharing with the family. We bought you clothes and started planning your pink room. I'm sorry if I forever ruin pink and gold for you.
And I'll never forget the day we discovered how small you were. God is so funny the way He works. Our ultrasound was not for your size. But God. A completely unrelated concern got our eyes on you. I'll never forget the doctor looking at me and telling me, "Your baby is very small and I can't find a reason why." And so began multiple opinions and countless ultrasounds. And oh you were so small. I asked the ultrasound tech one day if you were at least growing on your curve and she responded, "Well, she's not even on the charts so there is no curve."
And then it was time. I sat in that chair, monitors listening to your heartbeat, drinking ice water and turning from one side to the other. They left me for an extra 10 minutes before moving me to ultrasound. I wasn't scheduled for a comprehensive growth scan, but thats what they did. And as I waited for the doctor, I knew something was off. I'll never forget the words, "The baby was nonreactive on the stress test, she wasn't practicing her breathing on the ultrasound, and her growth interval was bad. The recommendation with preeclampsia and these signs of distress in the baby is to induce at 34 weeks. We would like to admit you to have this baby tomorrow." I held it together the best I could, but I'll never forget calling your dad in tears and telling him it was time. I'll never forget my nurse, Nancy, giving me a big hug and telling me it was okay to cry, and that it was going to be okay. I'll never forget being wheeled into L&D.
And I'll never forget that night before you were born. The incredible nurses waiting an extra half hour to start me on my magnesium drip so I could eat one final meal. The hot flashes and blurry vision as the meds for my preeclampsia set in. The moment I finally asked for some pain meds so I could sleep. The urgent call Theresa made to the charge nurse when she couldn't find your heartbeat after my epidural. The moment at 9:45 am when I asked they check my progress, and we calmly started preparing for delivery in about two hours. And that moment 15 minutes later when you came rushing into the world. Your preemie team wasn't present. My high risk doctor wasn't present. But you filled the room, Baby girl, and I'll never forget that moment.
I'll never forget the 24 hours following your birth. I couldn't see you or hold you. Your daddy was with you, but mommy had to wait. It was one of the best days of my life and one of the worst. Mommies aren't supposed to be separated from their babies. But your daddy told me all about you and I worked hard to give you all the things you needed to start your life strong. I'll never forget hearing that the nurses at the nursing station were talking about how lucky you were to have me as your momma. I didn't think I was doing anything special to wake up and pump that gold for you, but those words were a balm to my heart as I waited to get to be with you.
And oh that moment I saw you for the second time. The most beautiful little doll I've ever seen. You looked so peaceful laying there in your "box," as your brother called it. I'll never forget your brother seeing you for the first time. He has loved you from the start, baby girl. You have the best big brother.
Then I went home. And you didn't come. And I cried the whole way. And I spent 24 days leaving the hospital without you. But I'll never forget the day I left and you came too. It was your 25th day of life. And you'd already overcome so much. You gained over a pound, you learned to eat, and you had already touched more hearts than we'll ever know. I'll never forget your nurses. Each one blessed me in a way I can't express. They made your homecoming bittersweet, and that is a good thing.
And then came your first Christmas and your first New Years. You weren't even supposed to be here yet. We were so thankful to have you safely in our arms. I'll never forget the late night and early morning snuggles. You've always given the best snuggles. And I'll never forget the five times you latched to nurse. Most of the time, you screamed when we tried. But those five peaceful times were a gift, and I'll never forget, baby girl. Thank you.
And then when you were only 11 weeks old, something terrible happened. And I'll never forget holding you close and crying. You provided love in the midst of incredible pain. You've always been exactly what we needed.
And you grew and you grew. You weren't as chatty as your brother but you always got hangry like your daddy. You started laughing, mostly with your big brother. You met your cousins and stole hearts left and right. You started sitting, and feeding yourself, and crawling. You clap and wave and play peek-a-boo. And I'll never forget each time I packed clothes away. A season of your life over so quickly, but a new one around the corner.
And now here we are. One year old. Another season ending, a new one beginning. And I'm excited. But I never want to forget. Because you, baby girl, have been one of God's greatest gifts to me. You've taught me more about trust and surrender than anything else. You've filled our home with more love than we thought possible.
So today, on the day you turn one, I pray you always know you are loved. You are celebrated. You are wanted more than words can say. Never, ever forget that. Happy first Birthday, baby girl.
