I knew this day would come. I thought of it the day you were born. As the doctors stood over me, bright lights shining on my body, numb from the chest down, I knew that time was about to take a freefall to the night before your first birthday. I didn’t imagine this moment with my first baby – I was in the moment, holding him. My second baby was born in a whirlwind of chaos and terror, and my focus was on the questions, “Is he breathing?” and “Is he alive?” rather than the question, “How fast will his first birthday show up at my door?”
However, when my last baby was born I thought of this. My tiny, chunky, squishy baby had only so many days of snuggling like a little warm ball under my chin, upon my chest. I knew it and I have held you close, Remy, every day knowing this day was just beyond the horizon. Here it is. My one-year-old is here. Your smile has more and more teeth, your laugh has more of a voice, your eyes have more wisdom and your hugs- I can’t even describe those hugs. You’re running now, dancing, drawing, reveling and living life with ferocity! I am getting to know a cleverer version of you with each new day. And just like that, my last baby is a memory.