Dear Emma

Dear Emma,
I'm writing this in a bit of a fog, because you decided to prolong your bedtime by about two hours and now I'm a little worn out. So, thanks for that. :)
It's been one year since you came flying into this world and made me a mother. In this short year, you've challenged me like I've never been before, deprived me of sleep, soaked me in every god-awful bodily fluid possible, and filled my heart with a kind of love I never knew existed. Yes, my sweet little princess, I wouldn't trade the vomit-soaked shirts for anything else in the world.
You smiled at about six weeks of age, learned to hit your toys at three months of age, laughed at four months, rolled over at seven months, sat by yourself at eight months, said your first word at ten months, and crawled/pulled up/cruised/began climbing at eleven months.
Yet the biggest lesson you've taught me is that none of that really matters, and it's not a scorecard. What matters is that you're healthy, happy, and learning something new every day. And you're here today, which is all I can really ask for.
So much has changed in just one year. One year ago, you were in the NICU and daddy and I were trying to wrap our heads around your existence in this world. I was waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of an alarm so I could pump a few drops of milk for you. Things changed gradually, but significantly. I started working in a new location, we bought a bigger house (you're an expensive kid, don't ever forget that), I got promoted... very little of our lives are the same as they were a year ago.
I still think about the days when I worried I'd never sit in a dark room while rocking my child to sleep, or plan a first birthday party. I don't take these tender days for granted. I want nothing more than a million more days like today, even if it means that I go to bed with frayed nerves because you didn't want to go to sleep. I forgive you, I promise :)
I always try to imagine what you'll look like and how you'll act when you're another year older, but it's so difficult to picture it. I'm almost certain you'll still be a hot-headed little spitfire because I don't think that's a trait that's easily lost. I think you'll be a funny little kid who doesn't like to be told 'no' and still enjoys music more than anything. It looks like you'll still have blue eyes and probably some dirty blond hair with a smidge of red in it. I bet you'll hate wearing hair bows or having your hair done at all. You'll still be a picky eater but hopefully a good sleeper *fingers crossed* And I'm really holding out hope that you'll like to cuddle, because I really want to cuddle with you and you just won't let me!
So here's to the next 525,600 minutes of our lives. I hope they're filled with happiness, love, adventure, learning, and excitement. May we look back on today and see how far we've all come and be grateful for every last thing we have.
To my dear, sweet, beautiful miracle of a child: I love you more than you'll ever know.