The night you were born was one of the best of my entire life. Bringing you into this world made me believe that I really can do anything and it solidified the creeping suspicion in my heart that the reason God put me on this earth was to be a mother. With you in one arm, and Genevieve in the other, I looked down at you both and felt for the first time that I had my answers. There was no more wondering who I would become or what my legacy would be. I was made to nurture and love you and I will spend the rest of my life doing it to the best of my ability.
Your first twelve months of life have not been without challenges. Together we have battled the hardships of breast feeding. With sores, and thrush, 17 cases of mastitis and a trip to the ER for mama you have been patient through it all. You have endured your own trauma. In your first two weeks of life you spent four scary days at Primary Children's while mama slept by your side and another trip to the ER two weeks later. Thankfully, we had each other, daddy and Genevieve to help us get through these trials and although your first year of life has been challenging I wouldn't have it any other way. This past year has taught me patience. Patience with myself, with my role as a mother, with my body and with God's plans for us.
I know that what lies ahead of you is so great that my heart nearly burst with anticipation for your future. There is an indescribable wonderness to your spirit. I try daily to put words around it. There is just something about you. A tangible peace. A soulful joy. These days, I watch as you are putting together what you know of the world. Yesterday I watched as you carefully watched your sister and tried to imitate her every move. On a daily basis I catch you studying her so intently. Trying ever so hard to talk and move as she does. At night when you are close to sleep, you hum ever so quietly as I blow in your eyes so you will give into sleep. It has become our ritual, the familiar warmth of your body curled up in my arms, our eyes meeting one last time while your little eye lashes flutter slowly, as you fall away to dream.
Finley, my darling. I never anticipated that you, my sweet, blue eyed, little boy would knock me back down to my foundation. That I would have to learn everything differently and all over again. That parenting you would force me to re-evaluate and redefine everything I thought I knew about love and patience and being a mother. Everything about you has been unexpected and wondrous.
Happy birthday, my sweet boy.
31 inches 95th percentile
24 lbs 70th percentile
head 50th percentile
12-18 month clothes
size 3 shoe
four on the top
two on the bottom
on the move and finally crawling
pulling yourself up on everything
can climb stairs as quick as lightening
you can wave bye bye
clap your hands
put your hand, any toy up to your hear and say "hi"