12 Months aka 1 Whole Year

Dear Tate,

Today you are 1 year old. 12 months. A WHOLE YEAR! This news is both exciting and sad for me, as while I’m thrilled you are thriving and lovely, I’m also a bit nostalgic for the past year. You see, it seems that many people are getting busy around St. Patrick’s Day, because every person I know is having a baby right now. All of them. And the ones that aren’t? Well, they are announcing their pregnancies on Facebook. It’s a baby boom around here, and every single birth announcement or newborn photo reminds me of where I was one year ago today.

A year ago I was a mother of one perfect little girl. A year ago I hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time in weeks. A year ago I had no pants that fit. A year ago I fretted and worried and worried and fretted about how your addition to our little family would affect us all. After all, three is the magic number, right? What would four mean for us?

Well, so far, it’s meant giggles and slobber and stinky diapers and early mornings and late nights and sore boobs and freezers full of breastmilk and first steps and first words and little teeth and loud screams and belly laughs and more slobber. So far, four has completed our family square (or family rectangle, depends on how you look at it). We were happy before December 20, 2010. Our hearts were full and our lives were wonderful. But now, today, on December 20, 2011, I can tell you, my dear son, our hearts had no idea what was coming.

I could go on and on about your changes this past month, but nothing I could say would fully describe you and who you are becoming. You are loud, happy and full of life. You are the only other person in this family who wakes up in the morning ready to go. Your sister and father yell at their alarms and beg for more sleep, while you and I eat breakfast together. You are one of the few people on the planet that laughs at my jokes, a trait that will serve you well during this gift giving season.

Back when you were just a little shrimp in my tummy, your father and I debated on a name for you. As always, we had approximately one million girl names at the ready, but boy names eluded us. I loved the name Charlie, but we didn’t want the Charlie Brown and Lucy references to follow you and your sister around for eternity. But in the last month, you have shown me that you are the embodiment of another one of Charles Schultz’s characters…Linus. You see, somehow you found your father’s old blanket from when he was a baby, and that is now your favorite thing. Your face lights up when you see that blanket. You run to it, like a long lost love, then cuddle with it, screaming in happiness. Finally, you throw it on the floor and roll all over it, soaking up every drop of its goodness. You’re a weirdo, Tate, but it’s pretty adorable. And now I’m mom to Linus and Lucy. Cue the music.

I love you, Tate. So, so much. Thank you for completing my family. Thank you for making us whole. We can’t wait for a hundred more birthdays with you.

Love,
Mama