XIU YEN'S 1st BIRTHDAY (MAY 13)

I remember the moment I knew you were coming. In that small moment, with my back against the bathroom wall, the dog whining at the door, I knew my life would change forever. And through those months, with you rolling and kicking inside me, I began to know you. You were born screaming, slick and red-faced, and as the nurses wiped you down and weighed you, you cried and cried, until I said your name. The nurse brought you to me, and I kissed that tiny, perfect face, the small echoes of nostrils, the curving shell of your ears, and dad cried when he saw you (but dont't tell him i told you that).  I know the science of your development, how you morphed from tiny winged embryo to willful one year old. Still, you amaze me, you stump me, and you humble me. Every night I watch you sleep, counting breaths, marveling at your fringed lashes, the dreams that make you smile and cool. You have always been ahead of the game, eyes open and searching even those first few days of life. Later, you would lift your head and arms, trying for hours to push yourself up, wobbling, concentrated, determined. How strange it seems that a few months ago your small fingers could barely grasp at a rattle, now you march triumphantly around the house, banging your toys on the floor and walls.  On one of the few afternoons i wasn't home you decided to (attempt) crawl just for daddy, rocking carefully, then springing forward, sprawling flat on the ground with the force of your effort. But by the end of the week you were crawling! Soon came pulling up, then standing, then suddenly, just shy of ten months, you took your first shaky steps. The rest is history, you run circles around us, climbing and rolling, squatting and reaching, always learning.

You have taught me so many things this year, the haute cuisine of soggy toast, the joys of rolling in pillows. You have taught me that a . bowl is a hat, that a spotted towel is fascinating, that a pack of Dentyne gum provides hours of amusement. You have taught me patience, and love, and terrible fear. Crouching over you with the nose bulb as you struggled to breathe, reaching you seconds too late after a nasty tumble, bathing you with cool cloths when you fever wouldn't come down I prayed to any God who would listen. Every day brings me to my knees in thanks for your existence, for your wisdom, for your health. And so, my dearest daughter, on the anniversary of my most memorable night, I salute you. May this next year bring you many discoveries, may you feel loved and cherished by your big, crazy family. May you keep that wonder, that fearlessness that inspires you to climb the bookshelves and windowsills. May you continue to find the joy in the small things, leaves of lettuce or the shapes and colors of fruit, or the way the light comes through the curtains, making patterns on the floor.  I will always be here for you, when you want to play peekaboo, or snuggle, or when you want to be a monster and chase me. When you wake up at four AM, crying because your teeth hurt, I will always hold you and keep you close. I will try to let you go, to let you discover, I know you need that. As I watch you explore your world, always know, I am your BIGGEST fan and cheerleader. Love, love, love and kisses, Mom. :*