You turned one.

Dear Sophia,

Somehow in my exhausted daze of new parenthood, a year has passed .  Every once in awhile it still hits me out of the blue:  "Oh, shit!  I'm a mom!"  But at other times it's the most natural thing in the world.  I remember in the early days when you first came home from the hospital.  I was so freaked out to put you to bed at night and know that this LIVING BREATHING PERSON NEEDED ME TO LIVE and it was impossible to believe that I was up to the task and that you would, you know, even continue breathing through the night let alone things like walking, talking, going to school.

You have really filled out a bit in the last couple months of your first year.    You have already had your sturdy little legs, arms, and hands, and these days you have acquired a little belly that pokes out.  You are wearing many shirts that are sized for 18 months because they cover that belly.  I love to blow raspberries on that belly.

Your hair is getting thicker and longer.  It is still fine and thin like mine, though, and is in a constant state of disarray on the back of your head.  (Oh, you are a mini Amie!)  When I get you out of the bath with wet hair and your grind your head into the towel, your hair fluffs up like a dandelion.

You are turning into little independent person with very definite ideas about what she does and does not want (and, unfortunately, it rarely involves my affection).  I have to steal most of my cuddles first thing in the morning or after you've already fallen asleep.  Otherwise, you push and squirm away.  Sometimes I plead with you, "Sophie, let mama hug you!" You pretend to walk toward me and, when I begin to reach for you, dart just out of my grasp, giggling.

You love books.  I keep a stash of books for you hidden near the couch at all times.  I was sad when I had to start hiding them, but you would intently try to consume them from beginning to end once you got teeth and could take chunks out of them.  But at least once a day--generally in the evenings after our dinner and bath--I sit down on the couch and say, "Sophie, do you want to read books with mama?" as I pull some of them out.  You make this joyful, fluttery noise with your tongue and come running, clambering for me to lift you onto the couch with me.  Your favorite is a large picture book with colorful animal pictures.  I point to them and tell you their names and then I imitate the sounds they make.  There are many to learn and the pictures we read vary every day, but I always make sure that we identify cats, dogs, cows, and ducks.  We practice moos and quacks every single day, and when I am mooing you are enthusiastically saying, "Mmmmmm!"

You love music and dancing.  Most of your dance moves thus far involve squatting and then standing straight up, but you look so adorable doing it.  Occasionally that diapered butt of yours sways from side to side, and it's all I can do to keep from bursting with love for you.  This evening when you were interested in my laptop, I played two of our favorite music videos from "Yo Gabba Gabba!" and we danced, not touching, but side by side, and it was a really wonderful moment.

You go to bed between 8 and 9 pm every night.  When I tuck you in, I cover you with your blanket and then hand you your little musical stuffed bee that mamaw got you for Christmas.  He has a night-time setting, and he plays lullabyes and bathes your little face in a soft golden light.  When he gets to the end of his songs, he cries, "Bye bye!" and shuts off.  You push his button over and over until you fall asleep, and for the first time the other night I heard you respond to him with, "Bye bye!"   And then you pushed his button again.  Sometimes when I check on you later, you have fallen asleep on top of your bee or even with him covering your face, still playing songs.

Today you learned to clap your hands.  I have been demonstrating it for you regularly for months.  After I would help you turn a back flip off my lap (yes.  what?) I would applaud enthusiastically and cry, "Yay Sophie!" You would beam with pride and jump up to do it again.  When we finish listening to a song that we particularly like, I often burst into applause and you grin and groove.  But today all of a sudden you decided to clap.  Once you started you didn't stop.  You clapped and clapped as if you'd been doing it forever.

Your birthday weekend was positively lovely.  Your first birthday fell on a Sunday.  Since your daddy had to work that day, we had a little family party for you the day before.  Your nana drove up from San Jose and spent the day here, playing with you, giving you EVERY TOY UNDER THE SUN, and making your porcupine birthday cake.

Oh, the porcupine birthday cake.  But that is another story for another day.

Your brother arrived with a birthday gift for you as well as a small flower pot that he'd decorated himself and in which he'd planted a flower.  ("I made one for me and one for Sophia," he informed me as he handed it over proudly.  And later that night when we went outside to water the flower along with the small pots of seeds I'd planted he asked, "Is it growing yet?")

We all had dinner together and sang to you (much to your bewilderment) and had cake and ice cream.  Darius spent the night, and for the rest of the evening the two of you happily played with your new toys, chased the party balloons, and watched cartoons together.

The next morning the two of you had breakfast in bed together.

I packed us a little picnic, and in the afternoon my friend Charra and her girlfriend Summer picked us up and we went to the park.  You loved eating cheese and crackers because you could eat them on the move.  And you never stopped moving!  The three adults of the party took turns on baby following/patrol duty.  At one point I cleaned off your face with a pack of travel wipes.  You have a particular fondness for carrying around packs of wipes, and you grabbed in and returned to roaming.  We met a 14 month old little girl who was thrilled when you walked right up to her and examined her.  She wanted to make friends.  You were content to thoughtfully nibble on the edge of the wipes packet and then move on.

In the days since your birthday you have been exploring your new toys.  Daddy and I got you a rocking horse that I couldn't resist giving you when it arrived a week early.

You love the horsey, but you have very little interest in actually sitting on him (full disclosure:  I put you on the horse in the above picture and afterward you immediately wanted down).  What you really like to do is grab onto one of his plastic bars across the front or the back and drag him behind you, grunting the whole time, like some sort of logger.

Nana got you this noisy little pink car.  It has many buttons and levers and horns and switches and one of them makes it demand to know if we are ready for a pink, pink, PINK ADVENTURE.

You love the car.  But you don't want to ride or sit on it (same full disclosure applies to this picture, too.  sigh).  Instead, you seem to prefer it for it's storage capacity (the seat lifts up and reveals a little cubby) as well as your ability to grab it by the back handle and ram it repeatedly into Freddy's dome-shaped litter box.

You are learning how to be naughty.  You have the entire living room and dining room to roam, but the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom and barricaded off in various ways unless you are accompanied.  When you think I'm not paying attention, you slip over to the playpen blocking the hallway that leads to the kitchen and start slowly sliding it across the tile floor.  When I give a warning, "Sophie...." you stop and giggle and run away.  Then you go back to waving your butterfly push-toy on a stick like a small, avenging angel and trotting around.

It's been quite a first year, my girl.  I couldn't love you any more than I do.

Love,

Mama

All my maps have been over-thrown

(aka:  Your Birth Story)

Dear Sophia,

On a warm Friday night in March, I sat with your daddy on the couch and tried to pay attention to the TV.  I don't get to spend enough time with him, so I wanted to sit next to him as long as I could stay awake.  We shared some pretzels and held hands until finally I was so sleepy I could barely hold my eyes open.  Around 9:30pm, I went in to the bedroom and climbed in bed.  The cool darkness was an immediate comfort and I began dozing off.  I had been so physically uncomfortable in the previous couple of weeks that I barely slept at all and any that I could get was a welcome respite.

I had been in bed curled up on my side for about a half hour a trickle of warmth went down my leg.  My eyes jerked open.  Even though it was a common occurrence that when you kicked my bladder I would pee, I knew this was not pee.  I lie still and waited.  A few seconds past and the trickle started to turn into a small stream.  I was pretty sure this was amniotic fluid, but I always assumed my contractions would have started before my water broke.  I stood up in the dark bedroom and gushes of warm water soaked my black leggings.  Startled, I cried out to your father.

"Ivan!  Come here, please!"

He was dozing off on the couch in the living room and sleepily murmured, "Hmmm?"

My urgency increased as the implications of what was happening were dawning on me.  "IVAN!" I called sharply.  He was up and off the couch quickly as I made my way to the bathroom with the cell phone in hand.  My knees quaked but I tried to hurry so as to avoid soaking Auntie Tash's carpet.  Was I supposed to be worried about the carpet at a time like this?  I wasn't sure.

"What's wrong, baby?"  your daddy asked.

"I think my water just broke!" I breathlessly answered as I shut the bathroom door behind me.  I huddled on the toilet and called Labor and Delivery at UCSF hospital.  As they were advising me to come to the hospital, your auntie knocked on the door to check on me.  "They want me to come in," I called through the door.

We got ready quickly and piled in the car.  I self-consciously sat on waterproof pads in my wet pants.  I hadn't bothered to change them because there were still periodic gushes of liquid coming from me.  I felt water-logged.  Your aunt Tash drove and daddy sat in the back seat.  We were in a good mood and laughed and joked on the way to the hospital.  We marveled that I wasn't in any pain because we had all privately imagined this night going very differently.  This wasn't as dramatic as we'd all expected.

It didn't take us long for us to get to the hospital.  By 10:45pm I was in a gown and on a bed talking to Dr. Quinn in a hot little room with Tash and daddy packed in there.  I was still so sleepy!  How could I possibly have the energy to give birth tonight?  I wondered.  I was scared I wouldn't be able to do it.  When they established that you were breach with an ultrasound and informed me that other risk factors made them want to perform a C-section on me, I was relieved.

The contractions progressed rapidly from there, and by 12:30 I was given medication to slow them down because you were coming too fast.  I was so thirsty by then but wasn't allowed to have anything to drink since I would be getting anesthesia.  I kept asking, "Are you sure I can't have just a little sip?" and was repeatedly and good-naturedly told no. 

Nurses bustled about prepping me for surgery and having me sign paperwork and around 3:00 am I was wheeled into the operating room.  "Where is my partner?" I kept asking.  Dr. Quinn's eyes appeared in front of me behind a surgical mask.

"Don't worry," she assured me.  "I won't forget him.  We'll bring him in last thing before we get started.  I'll make sure."

People swarmed around me and I was embarrassed that I required all this bother and attention--at least a dozen people were in the operating room and engaged in actions of various sorts:  counting surgical equipment out loud, monitoring my vital signs as the epidural injection was delivered to my spine, double-checking my identity and condition prior to beginning surgery.  By the time Dr. Quinn brought your daddy into the operating room, I was numb from the navel down and laying crucifix-like on the operating table.  The doctors and their surgical tools were obscured from me by a curtain across my chest.  I smiled with relief when I saw your daddy come in wearing the hospital garb.  He took a seat near my head and kissed my cheek.  "Here we go," I whispered.  He squeezed my hand gently so as not to disturb my IV.  Or, more likely, he squeezed my hand and I cried, "Watch out for my IV!" so he squeezed more gently.

You entered the world quietly at 3:45 am on Saturday, March 17, 2012.  Once they said you were out and had whisked you away to clean you off and check you out, I strained to listen for you for the first time.  For a moment I heard nothing and then you began to cry softly.  I smiled with relief and happily breathed, "There she is!"  They called out your time of birth and weight (6 lbs., 8 3/4 oz.) and soon after they had put a little striped hat on you and swaddled you snugly and carried you over to be near me.  I got my first glimpse of you as the nurse held you next to my face as I lay on the operating table.  I kissed your cheek repeatedly and said, "Hi, baby!"  I couldn't believe you were actually here.  They didn't let you stay long and off  you were whisked again.

The night would go on to be surreal.  One minute I was sitting with your daddy at home and the next minute I was somebody's mother, destined to be pooped on, puked on, yelled at, whined to, and given many an eyeroll.  When I finally got a cup full of ice chips from a kind nurse, it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted in my whole life.  I sat up in bed answering doctors' and nurses' questions, munching my ice, and thinking, I wonder how my baby is doing?  What are they doing to her right now?  What is her take on all this?  Oh my god, I just had a baby! 

For the first 12 hours or so, when I looked at you it was with a mixture of intense love and fear.  This little helpless person!  Needs me!  Counts on me to do the right things, to make good decisions!  And you know what?  I needn't have worried that I wouldn't feel enough for you right away.  I quickly understood the mother who was in the news recently for covering her children's bodies with her own during an earthquake and subsequent building collapse.  This...little person I grew in my body.  Suddenly I physically need her.

One night during our hospital stay I followed the nurses advice to skip the 3am attempt at breastfeeding, allow them to feed you formula, and stay in bed and try to get a little more sleep.  But I woke up missingyou and your babyness so intensely that I started to cry.  I called for the nurse to take me in my wheelchair to the nursery so that I could at least sit near you.  An ICN nurse was feeding you a bottle and looked startled to see me.  "Everything okay?" she asked.

The tears that had been filling my eyes began to fall.  "I just missed her," I explained, "and I needed to see her."  She smiled and patted me and handed the bundle that was you over to me.  I snuggled you close and sniffed your silky hair.

I know that I am biased, but honestly you're the sweetest little baby I've ever seen.  You are so good!  You smile easily, soothe yourself well already, and are so snuggly and warm and precious that I can hardly bear it.  Today you have a stuffy nose but you rarely complain and are even patient with us as we suck the snot out of your tiny little nose.

Grandma has been with us visiting since before I got home from the hospital, and believe me when I tell you that you are absolutely adored.  We dote on you.  I will hate to see her go, because the social and emotional support (not to mention the extra pair of hands) has been a really lovely thing.

You are home, my sweet Sophia.  You are healthy and perfect and (thank god!) not inside of me anymore.  You will always be my little Frijole, and I plan to keep writing to you indefinitely here.  I want to document your growth and milestones, and I want to be sure you have my words no matter what happens to me in the future.  I want you to know how very loved and wanted you are.

Love always,

Mama