One year ago today, my baby was just a Millersicle. A tiny little speck of an embryo, floating down a catheter. A spark of light on a tv screen as we watched the moment she made her home in my uterus in real time.
Today, I’m typing this as I listen to our three month and ten day old little girl babble to herself in her bassinet after waking up from an all too short nap. It’s entirely mundane and overwhelmingly amazing, all at once. Life now is beautiful, exhausting, bittersweet, hilarious, stressful, and beyond crazy. And I wouldn’t change a thing, if it means that I get to do life with this little creature.
Mia, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Despite the years of struggle to get you here, the physically and emotionally draining pregnancy, the thirty hours of labor and traumatic birth, I’d do it all again, if it would get me to this moment in time.
You, my dear, are a peach. You are both everything and nothing like I imagined you would be. You are so very strong, both in physicality and spirit. You came out fighting, spitting angry and pink and perfect. Your smile makes me feel like my heart is cracking open. Your eyes are always wide, taking in everything around you, and I have a feeling that’s how you’ll approach life. You don’t want to miss a thing, which is simultaneously adorable and terrible because you never want to close your eyes. You have your daddy’s feet, and I’m already dreading the day you’ll outgrow me and we can’t share shoes anymore. You find fart noises and fake sneezes hilarious. You love it when mama sings to you and when dada dances with you to try to get you to sleep. You’re already rolling all over the place and keeping us on our toes. You love to babble and talk to whoever will listen, which mama loves, except not at 2:45 in the morning when you wake her up with your “conversations” over the monitor. You have a little cowlick on your forehead that I affectionately call your swirly, and I secretly never want it to go away.
I revel in the moments that I spend with you. Sometimes I am exhausted and want you to sleep so that I can get some “me time”, and then I miss you when you are sleeping and stare at pictures of your face. You made me a mama, which I will be forever grateful for. It is the hardest job I have ever had and the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. You are my favorite human.
Happy transferversary, my love.