You are one year old and 5 days.
This is a relief. A year ago tonight I am sure I was standing over your bassinette, holding my breath, watching to make sure your tiny chest was rising and falling with life. I worried every second. I didn't shower, I didn't change my clothes, I just sat around waiting for bad things to happen. It was a scary time. I wish I could go back and not have all that fear because it diminished our time together... And you can't get that time back. I would spend nights watching you sleep while I cried on our sectional, so sure I couldn't do what it takes to be your momma... That I would never be good enough.
I still feel like that sometimes but I am not worried so much about you physically anymore. You are tough. Resilient. Strong. You are the most amazing thing in my world.
You don't look anything like me. Not a single spec of you. Every inch of you, physically, is your father. We go to restaurants and people can't help but tell us. "You were just the vessel" they will say to me, "Bless your heart." I will smile and nod. It's true. My body was cut open to bring you into this world. Your sustenance came only from me yet here you are, looking not even a tiny bit like me. It doesn't bother me all that much, I just pretend it does. There is no one more handsome you could look like, in my opinion.
You sleep pretty well. I never realized that a full year of my life would completely revolve around whether a creature slept or not. The first four months were tough. You had no interest in sleep. I thought, "I can't do this. I will die."
We're both still alive.
You have seven teeth and you love to dance. You also have a face that is older than you are. You look at things like you're examining them, taking it in. I guess every parent thinks this but in my case I am correct... You are a genius. A handsome genius ready to bloom and take over the universe.
Thanks for showing up, sweet angel boy. As a young girl you wait and wait for a man to come and save you. You learn soon enough that no man can save you, you can only save yourself. Then you have a baby boy and it all makes sense a little... That longing I had my whole life, it wasn't for some man. (Though I do love your father, to the ends of time and back...) I was waiting for you, Oliver. I was put on earth to do many things but if I accomplish nothing else, the fact that you're here makes everything make sense. You are my purpose, my religion. You are the pieces of people I miss that have come back to me in the form of you. I will love you always. Just keep breathing. I will try to do the same.
Happy Birthday, Oliver Grey.