Every time I sit down to write this final letter of your first year, the words just don’t come to me.  What to say on such a meaningful occasion.  A year ago, Harrison and I sat on the driveway on a Thursday morning, trash day, waiting for the trash trucks to come “dump the rocks out.”  And a whirlwind of seven hours later, you’d be in my arms.  The loudest newborn scream I’d ever heard, but we were smitten.

We weren’t first time parents.  We knew the joy and love you’d bring to our house.  That there would be hard nights ahead, and easy days.  That you’d grow way too fast, and before we knew it, that we’d look at you and wonder where the bleary nights had gone and the newborn snuggles.

A year later, and the love I have for you is unending.  You watch your brother with amazement and admiration.  Squealing with delight when I take you to wake up your brother, just before we open his door.  You play peek-a-boo slapping your hands up against your eyes so your little baby cheeks wiggle.  Then peek one eye out to see what’s going on around you and laugh when someone catches you.  The floor is lava the minute you see me, insistent on being held at all times if I’m in your presence.

I haven’t shied away from loving on you.  Haven’t shied away from holding you while you fall asleep at night, savoring every last bit of your baby-ness.  I’m so proud of you already, little boy.  Proud of you.  Proud of us: mommy + baby J.  We made it.  One very full, beautiful year.  Happy birthday, my love.

I love you so big,

Mommy

Dear Jonathan v. XI

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