dear remington.

dear remington,

hi, it's mom.
a crazy thing happened this week. we celebrated your first birthday. we threw a huge elaborate party, we gave you your very own cake to devour, and you received an almost shameful amount of gifts.

what a year it's been.
as you grew closer to being a toddler and further from being a baby, i've mostly felt relief. you are stronger, less fragile. you're easier to handle. your personality is really blossoming and you're a joy to be around. all those moms who cry when their baby turns a year, psh, i wasn't going to be one of them.

but a strange thing is going on with me this week. it really hit me that your baby stage is over and gone. i'm feeling really blue about it.

not even so much that you're not a baby anymore, because i do not miss those days of your evening crying and my postpartum depression. i think it's that this is one more step to you growing up and leaving me.

you see, the hardest part of being a mother isn't the sleepless nights or the loss of your freedom. the hardest part is that i am pouring my heart and soul completely into you, but you are growing up. you are only going to become more independent, which is wonderful, because it makes my life easier, but it is awful, because someday, i won't be the person in the room whose arms you run to. you'll have secrets from me. i won't be able to protect your heart from being broken. i won't know every single detail about you the way i do right now.

right now i know you better than anyone else in the entire world. i am your whole world, and you are mine. that won't be forever.

from the very beginning of your existence, i knew you best. i was the first person to feel you moving your growing limbs inside me. i knew that you got the hiccups every night around 9pm. i knew that you were determined when i was in labor with you. your heart rate had grown irregular, so the nurse needed to insert an instrument into my uterus to ensure that you weren't in distress. you had other ideas though, and wouldn't move your head out of the way. she finally had to give up because you had other plans.

as a newborn, you weren't easy going. you liked to wiggle and move your arms and legs. i knew you would be a goer, and you are. you never wanted to hold still. by 9 months you were walking, getting into everything. i love that about you, love that you are curious and smart.

you're the happiest little person. everyone you meet is a new friend. i've never had so many people smile at me either, as they do when i'm out with you. your smile lights up every room.

you've changed my life for the better in so many ways. i'm finally on depression and anxiety medications that i have needed for a long time, but never would have gotten on without the postpartum issues i had. i've felt more joy in the past year with you than i have the rest of my life. you've brought your dad and me closer and helped us work as a great team.

i hope you can feel how very loved you are.

i'm trying my best to enjoy the ride, to take every day as it comes without worrying too much. sometimes i am so tired and feel i can't possibly change one more poopy diaper or listen to one more minute of whining. the other day i was exhausted and you didn't want to take your afternoon nap, so i placed you in your crib and walked out to take a breather. after twenty minutes of listening to you cry, i brought you into my bed. you immediately laid your head on my chest and fell asleep. in these quiet moments with you, i am full. 

i don't really know how to navigate the future. how will i know how to protect you from pain? how will i make sure to teach you all the important parts of life, to make sure you understand responsibility for your actions, to love yourself and others?

this is the thing about being your mom. in the range of several hours, i feel more emotions than i can keep track of.  fear of the future. laughter and joy watching you learn to blow a kiss. dread for the day when you won't let me smother your cheeks with kisses. frustration when you won't listen. the intensity of how far i'll go to keep you safe. i remember the drive home from the hospital when you were two days old. we were on the freeway during rush hour traffic. a semi truck was merging onto the freeway on my side of the car and i remember putting my arm around your carseat and realizing that i would stand in front of a semi for you without batting an eye.

i'm not sure where i'm going with all of this.
i just want you to know how wonderful you are and that the past year with you has been the greatest year of my life.

i love you,
mom.

xo.