Evie's 52nd Week

Dearest Evie,

I just came downstairs from putting you to bed.  I confess that I held you longer tonight than usual.  You were already very much asleep by the time I stopped staring at your beautiful face, your precious cheeks, your long eyelashes, your cute bird lips.  I wish I could have taken your picture without waking you up.  That was my last moment to hold you as an "infant" before you graduate to "toddler" tomorrow morning.

Earlier today while you were napping, I read through my letter to you on this day last year.  I remember so distinctly writing that letter.  It's hard to believe that on this date one year ago, we didn't even know for sure what your name would be.  Now, Evie is the first thing on my mind in the morning and the last thing on my mind at night.  You have changed my life forever.

I won't pretend that this year with you has been nothing but movie montage moments of cuddles, giggles, and perfect diaper changes.  I remember well the rough time we had with nursing, the tummy troubles that seemed to plague you for the first six months, the sleepless nights.  But I remember much better the first moment I saw you, the first time I got to hold you, the naps together on the couch, standing with you on the porch during that July thunderstorm, your first solid food, hearing you say, "Mama" for the first time...  Not every moment has been easy, or even enjoyable, but for each difficult moment, there are a hundred other moments that made it worthwhile.

When I became a mother 364 days ago, I knew I had a lot to learn about how to take care of a baby.  I didn't realize I would learn so much about myself and the kind of mother I want to be to you.  And I have learned much more about you.  So, just in case you change between now and when you read this, let me tell you about one year-old You.

You are inquisitive and you need a challenge.  You get bored doing the same thing, playing with the same toy, and you thrive in new environments and with new materials.  You surprise your Daddy and me with how quickly you pick up how things work, and how creative you are in your play.

You love music and rhythm.  From the moment you could hold things, you loved banging them together to create sound, and I recall so clearly how music would make you stop crying in an instant, even when you were only two days old in the hospital.  Now, when I sing to you before bed, you hum with me, and you still respond to Raffi's "Down by the Bay" by stopping any kind of fussing.

You constantly demonstrate how good-natured and friendly you are.  You get compliments everywhere we go because of your smile.  You smile at everyone, and it makes their world brighter.  And then it makes my world brighter.  I've seen you put smiles on the faces of people in the nursing home who have very little joy, and I can't describe how much you helped your Gram during her grief over losing Grampa last month.

You are a blessing to me.  To your Daddy.  And to everyone who meets you.  They are immediately enchanted by you.  Please, never forget that you have so many people who love you, and who always will.  I hope that when you are old enough to read this, it will still be evident every day how much I adore you.

And now, sweet girl, though I am slightly sad to see our first year with you end, I am so looking forward to what we'll learn about each other this next year.  I have been a little teary the last two days because of your disappearing baby-hood, but I am excited to share even more discoveries with you.  Motherhood is a strange mix of emotions that way.  Thank you for letting me experience that.

Love forever,
Mama