A Year In a Second

When you were in my tummy, I just wanted you to come out so I could count your fingers and toes and know that you were ok.

When you were newborns, I wanted you to be a few months older so that I didn’t have to stay awake all hours fearfully counting your breaths.

When you were a few months older, I was ready for you to start sleeping through the night, so I could start getting more than 3 hours of sleep.

When you started sleeping through the night, I wanted you to be able to sit up on your own so we didn’t have to practice “tummy time” anymore.

When you were sitting up by yourselves, I started getting excited about watching you get stronger so that you could crawl.

When you were crawling, I wanted you to learn to say “mama.”

When you started to say “dada” (of course), I started anticipating your first wobbly steps.

Before I knew it, an entire year had passed.

I suddenly wished I could go back to before your first words.

I wanted to go back to when your little hands squeezed my fingers tightly in order to sit up by yourselves for the first time.

I wanted to go back to before you were crawling and all you wanted to do was cuddle all day.

Or even to before you started sleeping through the night...before my heart ached as I folded up your bedside bassinets and stared at you longingly through the baby monitor.

Back to the days of burping you after you ate, and still getting spit up on. Even back to when you ruined all your cutest outfits with explosive diapers.

Back to tummy time and hours of watching you sleep.

Back to when you were so tiny you could both fit perfectly on my chest, as I tried to stay awake so I could listen to your little snores and memorize your newborn wrinkles.

Now, it’s your first birthday. One year of happy tears and sad tears, dozens of firsts and lasts, and loving you more than I thought was humanly possible.

Happy birthday, Nadia and Norah.