One Year Old

My dearest Nesyah Hallel,

Of course I have loved you from the moment you were born, and even before then, as an Ima does.  The very miracle of your existence and birth is one thing that has reminded me to hold you especially close to my heart. But over the past year, you have grown into your own person, as children do.  I want to spend your first birthday letter saying "thank you" - not only for being my little miracle, but for working so hard over the past year to become so dearly, perfectly you.



As if the miracle of you wasn't enough,
you seem dedicated to making every moment a wonder.
You are the cheeriest baby I have ever met, and over the course of the last year, your unflappable happiness reminded me each and every day  that the world is a joyous place, if only we look in the right direction.

(discovering your toes)

(cloud-watching in the sukkah)

If any day felt particularly dark,
you would coo and sigh and pat the back of my neck with your fat fingers,
reminding me that if we were together, everything was right.
And, in that moment, it truly, truly was.  (Thank you.)

(snuggle session on the couch)

And if that didn't work, you would just do one of those fabulous tricks you can do with your tongue, raise your eyebrows in the air, and make me laugh out loud.


You love to be held close, and you love to kiss.  You were the first of my babies to volunteer kisses, approaching an unsuspecting cheek with wide-open mouth, a smear of drool, and an enthusiastic "aaaahhhh!" (Which is why I think I am the only person willing to kiss you on the lips as of yet.)


You are fat. Gloriously, deliciously fat.  Your thigh rolls are the best I have ever seen, and the day I notice that they are going away will be very sad.  That day is no doubt coming on more quickly than I will be happy about, since you began to walk just one week ago.  Five very wobbly, very independent steps were your birthday gift to me, one I will never forget.  Soon the extra exercise will burn off all that delicious chub, and your increasingly steady walk will make my arms a little less necessary.

(six months old, sixteen pounds)

Since I stayed home for the first year of your life, we have never been apart.  That means that you are one hundred percent Ima's girl.  If you are at your saddest, I am the only one who can make you feel better.  I absolutely love that, my dear one, I can't tell you how much.  We are "besties" through and through, and I couldn't ask for a better one.



I think every laugh that you've ever laughed has been a hearty one.  No giggles or titters here, just full-on delicious rolling belly laughter.  I hope that you throw yourself as fully and deeply into everything else you do your whole life long.


Your brothers adore you, and you are smart enough to already have learned from them the best ways to find adventure, effectively tackle, and mug someone with hugs and kisses.  That is one reason that you are as rough-and-tumble as a baby girl could be, and also as loving.



My darling girl, you are my sunshine.  During the first year of your life, you've already grown into someone who has managed to change mine more deeply than I could have imagined.  I don't think a day has gone by that your Abba and I haven't looked at one another and said how grateful we are that you are a part of our little family - you are making it what it is just by being so happy, so joyful, so sweet, and so perfectly, wonderfully, you.



Happy first birthday, my dear, sweet baby girl.  May it be the first of many more belly-laughing years to come.

Love,
Ima