When You Were A Baby

I just checked on you as I do every night. Every night before I go across the hall to my bedroom, I turn on the hall light, quietly open your door, and walk in to see if you are OK. I know already that you are OK because I have been listening to you on the monitor all evening. Really, I want to see you one last time before I go to bed.

Tonight, you were facing the opposite direction that I had laid you in. Your hands were down between the mattress and the side of the crib. 9 times out of 10 you have them that way. Maybe you feel like you are hugging something when you sleep? Your little legs were curled perfectly towards your stomach. You looked so perfect to me - how can you be turning one in just 6 days?

One day, in the not-so-distant future, you will make a request, "Mom, tell me what I was like when I was a baby." I will tell you that you had the biggest blue eyes that captured everyone's attention. I will tell you that except for the first one, you have loved your baths. I will tell you that you loved to be around people, and were quite the charmer. It seems you know just who to charm to get what you want. I will tell you that you loved your changing table, and we would spend many minutes during the day playing on it. You always smiled when your Daddy came into the room, he always got a laugh out of you - even when you were mad and didn't want to laugh - something we'll have to tolerate together. I will tell you that I missed you every day when I went to work and that my favorite time of day was when I picked you up from daycare. You would hear my voice at the door, look over and crawl to me as fast as your hands and knees would take you. Your teachers loved you and always made a fuss over you.

I will tell you that you were an amazing baby - my first baby - and you were more than I ever dreamed you would be.

Goodnight.