A First Birthday

Dear Griffin,

Today you celebrate your first birthday. We have come so far, and accomplished so much in just one year.

A year ago, we were in bad shape. Your arrival was a bit of a surprise, as we were not expecting you for another month. As it turns out, I was getting pretty sick, and the doctor told me that I'd better get used to the idea that you were going to be here a little early. They had me on all sorts of medication that made me pretty dopey for a couple of days. Since you didn't want to come out yet, even with some medical prompting, they decided they were going to have to take you out. I don't remember much about the operation. I was still feeling very woozy, due to the drugs. I remember the bright operating room, and how hard it was to lean back into the needle they put into my spine.
I remember it was so fast. Your dad was there, talking to me and holding my hand. Before I even had time to think about it, there you were.
They held you up over the curtain so that I could see you. You were covered with all kinds of gook, but I still remember being surprised at your dark hair. You didn't look anything like I expected you to. It was so hard for me to remember much. I struggled to force pictures and sounds into my memory. I heard you cry three times, I remember that.

After they sewed me back up, we both went to the recovery room, where the nurse put your perfect little self on my chest and I tried to nurse you for the first time. After that, we both went our separate ways, where we were both hooked up to numerous monitors and tubes.

The hardest part for me was not being able to see you. I wanted desperately to hold you and look at your little face, but the doctors wanted me to stay in bed for a while. When I was finally able to go visit you in the NICU, I was just amazed at you. Your perfectness. Your tininess. Your hair was the finest, softest fur. Your wrinkled ears were little origami rose petals, folded tightly to fit as efficiently as possible in my womb. And your nose, your mouth! I had never seen anything so beautiful in my whole life. I just could not believe that this was the creature I had been building in my tummy all these months. I couldn't get enough of you. At the end of each visit, they had to tear me away from you. We both spent some days recovering. Each day, a either you or I would get one more tube or one more monitor removed, until, at last, we were free of all contraptions. After about a week in the hospital, we both went home, and started our new life as a family.

This past year has been amazing beyond my wildest dreams. Of course, it helps that you are an absolute doll of a child. Aside from your little sleeping issue (you need it, but you seem to think that giving in to it is a sign of weakness), you are pure light and joy. You throw smiles around like candy. We scramble to collect them, and return for more. Strangers and friends alike fall under the spell of your charms pretty much immediately. You love nothing so much as to laugh and bounce and entertain. And you hate to be left out of a joke. The other day, the people on the radio had a laugh and you joined in from your rear-facing car seat.

I am the luckiest mom in the world. After returning to work for a mere six weeks, your dad and I decided that I could quit to spend my time with you, watching you grow and cleaning your butt every so often. I wake up each morning, and I can't wait to see you. Granted, I also can't wait for you to go to bed at night. I love watching you crawl - you can really haul. You remind me of a running lizard, as I can barely see your limbs touch the ground as fly over the floor. I especially love the smell of your head when it begins to sweat. It is the sweetest perfume. If I could put that scent in a bottle, I would make a fortune.

You are the luckiest kid in the world. Your parents adore the crap out of you. You get to see at least two of your grandparents every couple of days. You love the sound of the front door opening, because, without a doubt, it announces the arrival of a beloved parent or grandparent who will lavish you with kisses immediately.

So now you are one. I had a hard time ordering your birthday cake, because I think on some level I am not ready for you to be a year old yet. I am not ready for my baby to become a toddler. I have been so surprised by how quickly time has gone by, and it is hard for me to accept that we will only celebrate your first birthday once.

Thank you, my little Griffin, for all of the joy you have already brought too our lives. While I say a sad farewell to the first year, I look eagerly toward the adventures we will have together in the second year of your live.

Happy birthday, my little love.
-Mom