Happy Birthday Letter

Dear Amelia,

I am writing to you from a hotel room in Tampa, Florida. I’m missing you so much it hurts, but I just “talked” to you on the phone and hearing you say “da da” almost made me cry. That’s right, I am away on your first birthday, but I want you to know that I booked a very expensive flight that will get me home tomorrow to see you before you go to bed. And judging from how much you hate birthday parties, I figure you won’t be too angry with me.

Speaking of shying away from attention, you are so much like me it’s uncanny. You like to play by yourself at daycare, but you can turn it on when you need to. Every day, a little piece of your personality starts to shine, and I can tell you are growing up to be a spirited, funny, sweet and loving little girl.

As cliché as it sounds, it seems like only yesterday that I was pushing for two hours to give birth to you. No offense, but your head was just too darn big to get out! I should start from the beginning. You were due on February 22. After a week of your dad having to help me make every single move due to my sciatic nerve pain, I held Dr. Palermo at gunpoint (kidding) and demanded she induce me. So, I left her office and she scheduled me to be induced on Monday, February 23, and she said the hospital would call me early that morning to let me know when to come in.

Being pregnant was not as hard as it could have been, but I’m a wimp. I could not go in the grocery store for the first several months because of my food aversions. And, sorry, but you ate a lot of McDonalds and Zaxbys and had a LOT of juice along the 9 months. I remember paying such careful attention to how often I could feel you move. I knew that if all else failed, I could turn on my laptop and place it on my lap, and away you would go.

So, anyway, early on February 23, the hospital called at 5:00 a.m. Daddy and I had a minor freak out, and then proceeded to get ready to go. We called Grandpa and Grandma who got on the road from Glennville, and Aunt Stacy and Maw Maw who got on the road from Atlanta. They told us to be there at 7:00 a.m., so we drove to the hospital to have you. I remember walking into the hospital alone (daddy decided to sit that one out) (again I kid) wondering if I would make it through the day. I don’t think it had actually sunk in that I would leave the hospital a mother. This was all just fun and games and shopping for pretty pink things up to that point.

But after 13 hours of labor, several orange jello cups, 2 nurses, one painful, but blissful epidural and 2 hours of pushing later, you were born at 10:10 p.m. You were 7 pounds, 15 ounces and 20 inches long. You only cried a few times, and I watched them bathe you in my room……then I ate a hamburger and went to sleep. A few days later, we left the hospital and they let me take you home. I kept thinking that if they knew how unprepared I was, they would have certainly taken you and given you to someone far more qualified.

Grandma stayed with us that week, and you literally slept and only woke up to be changed and fed your two ounces of milk. Piece of cake. I convinced myself that you were just going to be easy, and smugly decided that I was definitely a pro at the whole motherhood deal. Then Grandma left, and you woke up. For our first day alone, you screamed at me constantly. I walked you, fed you, bounced you, sang to you, and nothing worked. Finally, I cried with you….and called the pediatrician. They said that you probably were ready to move up to 3 ounces of milk. Who knew? So, I gave you your extra ounce, and sure enough that was the trick. This was the first time of many I felt so silly for not figuring it out, but in my defense, you should have used your words ;).

Pretty soon, you and I got the hang of one another. I learned to plan for a diaper change if a trip involved a car ride or a bathroom with no Koala Bear Care change center and you learned to take a bottle at the mall. To this day, nothing moves you like a good car ride. It was during my time off from work that you and I discovered our favorite pastime, shopping. You love it as much as I do, and I have to admit that I love you for that, and many other things, but I love that about you.You and I have conquered Black Friday together. You took a bottle of milk in line at Gymboree so that we could press on on our quest for deals.

As for milestones, let’s see. You come to everything in your own perfect time. Daddy and I worked and worked to get a smile from you, and it took forever. And forget about laughing, we almost have to bring in a circus to get a chuckle from you! But I know that you like to be tickled under your arms, and if all else fails, we bring in Sophie. When Sophie can’t get you to smile, we bring in the pediatrician.

You rolled over I guess around 4 months. You and I were playing on the floor, and I said that you wouldn’t roll over because you were being lazy, and just then, you rolled from you back to your tummy and proved me wrong.

You began to sit up at 6 months, and then around 9 months you began to crawl like someone whose legs were paralyzed. We resigned ourselves to the fact that this was your crawl, and then one night, you took off on your hands and knees and once again showed me.

You finally cut teeth around 9 months, but you were also having chronic ear infections. So, when you were 11 months old, we took you in to see a doctor who put tubes in your ears. That was the saddest thing watching you in your Looney Toon gown. The last time I saw you in your hospital gown was during an unfortunate incident in which Daddy dropped you when you were 5 weeks old. I will let him explain that one.

So, here we are on the night before your first birthday. You have grown and changed so much. I could not be more proud of you, and I take any opportunity to talk about you to anyone who listens. You love Sesame Street and doggies. Your first word has been doggie (pronounced dada). You are now 20 pounds and the tiniest in your class. You love to eat hot dogs and cheese and cereal bars and Gerber puffs. You are the only kid who actually prefers an organic, whole grain cereal bar to birthday cake. You have the bluest eyes and the chubbiest cheeks and Daddy’s chin.

We just got your fourth hair cut! You have the funniest dance—you shake your head side to side and twist your upper body while keeping your pointer fingers up. You hate your car seat and you love snuggling. Your favorite toy is probably a toy drumstick. You love to carry it around and chew on it.

You aren’t walking regularly, only a few steps here and there, but I have a feeling it won’t be long. You love helping me unload the dishwasher, and I’ve caught you trying to climb in. Your first birthday cakes were Tinkerbell and a doggie. Your smash cake was a dog bone. You wouldn’t touch it.

I can’t wait to see what the next year brings for you, Amelia. I can see you will be a girl who will always bring joy to anyone lucky enough to know you. I know because you already do. You deserve every wonderful thing this world has to offer, and me and Daddy are working to make sure you can have everything you wish for.

This week, you are moving up to the “toddler” room, and I want to cry every time I think about calling you a toddler rather than an infant. You will have to understand when I still call you my baby 30 years from now. When you have your own babies, I think you will.

I love you more than I ever thought I could love anything. You are the only proof I need to know that God does indeed exist because only he could think up a love like this.

Sweet dreams, Mookie. Mommy will see you tomorrow.