One

My dearest Samantha, one year ago today I held your hand for the first time.  Did you know then that with the grasp of your tiny hand, you had stolen my heart?

Just look how much you've grown!  You've gained almost 13 pounds, and you're about 10 inches taller!  You've got four teeth (two lower central incisors, and two upper lateral incisors), and just this month, you started walking.  I love how you would take Frankenstein-like steps, fall down, and then get right back up again.  You never gave up and you're almost completely steady now!

My little girl, you don't hide your emotions.  I always know how you feel, and I hope that I'll always know how you feel.  The way you light up when you see me transforms even the worst day into something beautiful, and there's nothing you like better than being held.  When you're unhappy, your shriek could break glass.  But my baby, I have never heard a softer, sweeter voice than yours.  The other day you toddled up to your daddy, saying, "Dada," and then set yourself down on his lap.  I don't know whether it was your purposefulness, or your father's pride that brought tears to my eyes, but I could've stayed in that moment forever. 

Samantha, people say that we're a lot alike (and I see it too), but you are most definitely your own person.  You are so smart – you started using sign language a couple of months ago, and you can imitate things you just saw (like when you saw me performing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" this week).  You are generous with your smile, but you reserve your laugh for truly funny things, like when you steal the paper that mommy is reading.  You're also kind – I've seen you offer your toys to Conor on numerous occasions, and sometimes, you won't cry when he takes it.

My love, it's only been a year, but I've known you forever.  You've heard me complain, and no doubt that for the rest of my life you'll continue to hear me complain about how difficult this first year has been.  But don't doubt for a second that if I was given the chance, I'd do it all over again, just so that I could end up with you.  I love you with every ounce of my being.

Happy birthday, my sweet little Samantha. 

My dearest Conor, one year ago today, I looked into your beautiful eyes for the first time.  Did you know then that with one blink of your eyes, you had stolen my heart?

Just look how much you've grown!  You've gained about 14 pounds, and you're about 11 inches taller!  You've got five teeth (two lower central incisors, two upper central incisors, and one lateral incisor), and just last week, you started walking.  I love how you watched Samantha fumble and you practiced cruising around the room (and boy, could you cruise!), before you let go and took your first steps.  But when you did, it took no time at all for you to start taking many steps.  You're almost completely steady now!

My little boy, your sunny disposition shines through almost everything you do.  Even when you're sick, we can make you smile.  When you're unhappy, you flop yourself on the ground and throw a temper tantrum (and I'm sorry, it's so unlike you that I can't help but laugh).  You're also very independent, and you're generally happy to explore on your own.  But my baby, there is nothing as sweet as cuddling with you.   The other day, you weren't feeling well, so you toddled over to me, moaning, "Mama."  I took you upstairs, read you books and sang you songs, and rocked you until you fell asleep on my chest.  I don't know if it was knowing that you felt some relief, or the joy of snuggling with you that brought tears to my eyes, but I could've stayed in that moment forever.

Conor, people say you're a lot like your father (and I see it too), but you are most definitely your own person.  You're so smart – you take in everything and then take action.  You did it with crawling and with walking, and even now, I can see you devising plans to reach the remote control that I thought I placed out of your reach.  You are generous with your smile and your laugh, and nothing is quite as funny as raspberries on your belly. You're also kind – when Zachary was crying the other day, you went over to him and gave him a kiss, and then whacked him repeatedly on the head (I knew you were trying to pat him – we'll work more on being gentle later).   

My love, it's only been a year, but I've known you forever.  You've heard me complain, and no doubt that for the rest of my life you'll continue to hear me complain about how difficult this first year has been.  But don't doubt for a second that if I was given the chance, I'd do it all over again, just so that I could end up with you.  I love you with every ounce of my being.

Happy birthday, my sweet little Conor.

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