My Dear Sweet Lucy,
Today you are ONE YEAR OLD. One year since they held you up and in my groggy state I shouted "It's a vulva, it's a GIRL!" One year since you were placed in my arms and you healed a wound that had been weeping since your sister was born in the same (although slightly more traumatic) way. One year since I looked at your gorgeous face, and your head full of hair and wondered how you had come into my life.
It's been quite a year, hasn't it? It seems like just yesterday you were this tiny mewling nursling and how you're THIS GIRL:
With 8 teeth and sand in your diaper.
This month you started drumming. You like both pots and pans and actual drums. You also like to work alone, or with a band.
Your sister loves drumming with you, or playing any instrument that makes you laugh.
You've also started loving smoothies:
And popsicles:
You took your first bike ride:
And you loved it! I can't wait to take you again.
You had your first trip to the beach. It was just a river beach, not the ocean (that's coming tomorrow). but you loved it.
Including eating sand and splashing in the water.
You also went on your first camping trip, and had the best time.
You spent a significant portion of the trip on my back or your daddy's back.
But you also hung out in camp chairs,
On laps (like grandpas, and you didn't cry!)
And in the dirt, lots and lots of dirt.
You woke up THIS happy every morning, even though it was COLD and EARLY.
We went to a superhero party (two actually) where you played the role of SuperLucy.
And you had a birthday party. It was SO much fun. Friends, food, cake, family, cake and laughter. All of your favorite things. (mine too)
This was your first experience with sugar, and grains and it was a HUGE hit. However, I hate to break it to you, we don't eat cake every day. (Well, we only eat it every day till it's gone, then we need another excuse to make cake.)
Don't worry, it's easy to come up with excuses.
My amazing little Lucy, you blow my mind every day. You are not yet crawling, yet you have a way of getting where you need. I call it the 'slap n drag' as you scoot on your butt with one hand slapping the ground and then you pull your legs and butt across the floor. You've got some work to do on building upper body strength before you crawl, and you've got a LONG way to go before you walk, but I'm in no hurry. You may be one but you still feel like a little baby in so many ways. You still sleep in my bed every night (though not in my armpit like your sister, you like your space) and you still nurse a couple of times each night so I have no interest in getting you out of my bed just yet.
You are SO communicative. You've started nodding yes (not shaking no though) and with your limited signs (more, all done - you say all done too, milk - which isn't the traditional sign for milk, it's more the sign for breastfeed, up and sometimes water) you can carry on quite a conversation. It's really amazing. You can make your needs known and are pretty pleased with yourself when you do. It makes for a pretty happy dinner time, and it's fun for everyone.
My darling Lucy, I am SO grateful that you are in my life. Your birth healed a wound that was deep and festering, even though it could have made things so much worse. Your presence in our family has been a blessing beyond words. Just by being, you've brought us so much joy, peace and your sister so much growth. Just like your sister, in your short life with your tiny hands and your deep brown eyes, you've healed hearts, mended souls and helped create a family. I could not imagine life without you, how ever did I live 41 years before I knew you?
One year ago, 1000 paper cranes became a dream made real, today they can tell me that they want more peas, or that they're all done with chicken. One year ago, 1000 paper cranes exploded from my imagination, today their laughter is such a delight that it sends my heart into fits of bliss when I hear it. One year ago, 1000 paper cranes were flying out of my heart and into the world and life couldn't be more perfect.
All, all, all of my love, Mama