To Dylan, On Your First Birthday

A year ago yesterday you surprised me. Not that it’s all that surprising to go into labor when your three days overdue and 80 percent effaced, but I was not expecting my water to break on the couch while watching the late movie. We went to the hospital not even knowing what your name would be. And several hours later your surprised us again – this time by being a redhead. It was then that we named you Dylan. I hope you don’t mind.

I can’t say that everyday this year has been an absolute joy, but I can say that you are a joy. You laugh and love so freely. You continue to play with Lij even though he repeatedly knocks you to the ground. You wander around the house signing the words “food” and “water.” You always seem to have something in your mouth. In your first week of life, you would cry for thirty minutes straight if I tried to rock you to sleep. If I laid you in your crib, you’d cry for five and put yourself to sleep. You’ve been doing that ever since. You are my adventurous one. The one who climbs stairs without the slightest hint of fear. The one who gets right back on the seesaw after falling off. You grin (with all eight teeth) and it melts my heart. You cry and you break it. Your first word was “mama” (and your second was quite possibly “cracker”).

You have been my gift – one that I had to put together and one that takes a lot of work to keep in good shape, but a gift just the same. And in some way I feel I’ve failed you. I look into your eyes and realized I don’t know you like I did your brother. I haven’t had the time to study you. I’ve yelled too often and hugged less than I should have. But I want you to know that I love you. It must be rough being a second (or subsequent) sibling. You will never get the one-on-one attention that the firstborn did. But I promise you this - you will get just as much love.

My dad wrote me a wonderful note my first year of college full of things he’d never shared with me before. One thing he said in particular struck me and has never left my mind. He told me that he was worried when they found out they were having my little sister. He wondered how he could love another child as much as he loved me. But when she was born, he said the strangest thing happened. His ability to love doubled. And I can tell you now, from experience, that’s how it works. The day you were born – a year ago today – the place in me that holds love, the part I wasn’t sure could stretch any bigger, made room for you.

And so today, after knowing you for a year, I apologize for all I haven’t been able to give you, thank you for everything you given me, take credit for giving you life, and forgive you for occasionally biting me while eating and waking the whole family up at 12:01 am this morning in order to celebrate every minute of your birthday. But most of all – most importantly – I assure you that no matter how old you get (and no matter how many siblings come along) that place in me that holds love will always have room for you.

So, good night and happy birthday, my sweet angel baby. I love you. Mama