Last year's calendar is filled with words like, "38 weeks, 39 weeks, THIS IS IT," and a "bonus" doctor's appointment on account of Dylan taking his leisurely time to trade in the all day buffet (I ate a lot) and somersaults for a real world experience. But when he was finally born, February 5th happened to be the day. When I look at the calendar I see days and weeks that very quickly became a year, and though the details aren't noted, it was not just another year. For me, it was the year.
It was the year I had a moment that for so many, becomes one of the most special and grasped memories in life. My first born was born. And it was the year I became a mom, the year I learned how to change the diaper of a kicking baby, the year I sat in the backseat, the year I read children's books, the year I worried about eczema, and the year I bestowed a lifetime promise of unconditional love.
But it's even more than that, it was Dylan's year. For him, it was the year he experienced life for the first time. The year he tried to beat the heat poolside in Vegas with a frozen bag of breast milk on his head. The year he held a bottle on his own. The year he was buried under laundry. The year of tummy-time. The year he was the smallest he'll ever be. The year he fell and bled profusely from his mouth. The year he went to Oktoberfest, experienced holidays, met his family, learned to sit up, crawl, and now walk. And before I even had a chance to blink, a year passed and became his birthday.
So yes, today marks Dylan as a one year old. But for me it marks so much more. February 5th will forever be the day I met my precious baby for the first time. Happy Birthday Son!