Annie's Day

It's the light that I think of most when I look back on that day.  The sun was so bright and our room, the delivery room, was positioned in such away that the sun shined directly in the windows.  The room was so cheerful, jovial, relaxed.  I was very concerned about having forgotten my mascara.  Adam was sound asleep on the bench below the window. Colleen dropped by just to say hello and the doctor arrived just about the same time. He asked if I could give him a practice push, stopped me about halfway through, took his glasses off, put his gloves on, and there was Annie.  

That was it.  Easy, happy, bright, relaxed, matter-of-fact.  And so is she. Dr. Payne announced what she was, Adam cried, I laughed (and said something like, "You did it!" to Adam) and, just like that, we changed forever.  The following days were ethereal. I can't think of another way to describe them. I was so happy. She made everyone step it up a notch. She made us feel so complete. I couldn't wait for the world to meet her.  One of my favorite photos from the day she was born is of Adam's family standing around her isolet, looking at her with glee.  Because that's how we looked at her, too. She was one of our greatest blessings. 

Now, as a one-year-old, Annie continues to bring us so much joy.  She adores her dad, asking for him several times a day. She thinks it's funny to shake her head 'no,' claps whenever anyone says "yaaaayyyyy!," waves hello and goodbye. She needs her "ruffles" to sleep (a little ruffled blanket gifted to her by my mom), gives hugs, and doesn't really care to share our attention.  She is as fancy as we thought she'd be, though she doesn't yet have much of a say in that. She's a pearl-wearing, loud- giggling, sparkles-loving, open-mouth-kiss-giving, tiny-footed little girl.  She's magic.

Today isn't as painful as I thought it would be, now that it's here. Last night was a little sad.  I put Annie down as my only baby.  She grabbed her ruffles, laid her head down, stuck her little butt up in the air, and closed her eyes.  Then she sat upright, put one hand up on her crib rail and watched me as I walked out of the room. I closed the door and closed my eyes, too, trying to freeze time right then--trying to burn that image into my memory. But time didn't freeze and, now, I realize that that's okay.

What this year brings and the next and the next, it will all be exciting.  I know that for certain. My baby woke up still a baby.  (She doesn't walk.  She's still a baby.) I put her in a cute peach outfit with gray chevron leg warmers and a knotted headband.  She giggled and clapped all through breakfast.  She nursed with vigor.  She ate a bagel, played with her brothers, examined her new toys with great curiosity.  For her, today is a great day.  It is for me, too.  It's her day.  Annie's day.

Happy birthday, sweet girl.  Thank you for one of the best years of my life.  

We loved you then, love you still, always have, always will.

❤️