It’s quiet and dark. What very little moonlight there is, shines through onto the bed. Your dad breathes in and out and your skin warms mine as you nurse. The longest layers of your hair tickle my arm and your hand is holding onto my bra, as it so often does when we’re together like this.
It’s your birthday-eve. Or it maybe your birthday. I am too tired to check. You used to be so much smaller, I think to myself. Your limbs are starting to outgrow my hold. A year ago, we met face-to-face for the very first time. I know you will never remember but I pray that I never forget a single detail of that day. Your entrance was so joyful, which I think was an omen to your personality. I thought I knew everything about your dad but that changed when I saw him hold you for the first time. It was like part of him was uncovered. It was something I don’t think either of us was aware was even there. It was soft and caring, not unlike what I had seen when he was with other children, but this was different. It was special. It was a love reserved for you alone.
I grab your hand and intertwine our fingers. You will outgrow my lap, my bath time songs, and my high-fives. You will outgrow your dependency for me to dress you and read “Chu’s Day” (again and again and again). But even when we are both much older and you have kids or pets or a spouse of your own, you will never outgrow my hand. My hand will always fit with yours. It will always write to you and rub your back when you are crying. Even when you “know it all” and eventually go your own way, my hand will always be waiting for yours to reach out.
This past year has gone by in a flash. You literally just started taking steps independently today. Or was
it yesterday? Like I said, I am too tired to check. It’s hard to believe that I am even a parent. I’m a parent to a toddler, none the less. It seems so strange. Regardless, I hope you have a very happy first birthday, Addison. I love you very much. Don’t grow too fast.