One. Year. Old.

Dear Abbey,

You are one year, one week, and one day old.

You are almost walking. Almost. You're certainly standing, scooting and climbing. You're also no longer bald. In fact you have these adorable little curls that are cropping up. You definitely have your Mommy's eyes and nose, and maybe hair, but there is no doubt that you look a lot like your father. You have four teeth now. Four. You like to use them to eat all by yourself. Because you're a big girl now. A toddler, technically. That's what they tell me. You prove that when you throw food at me when I try to feed you. Heaven forbid.

You love music. Love it. You dance and sing and bounce around with your tongue sticking out. You also talk. Like, for real. Your vocabulary consists of the following: no, yes, puppy, mama, dada, Dante (all dogs are Dante, evidently), cracker, cheese, baba, ouch, ball, book, night night, up, down, this, that, nana (which I think is banana), hi, hiya, bye-bye and my personal favorite, "mwah", usually accompanied with a blown kiss.

I recently looked at some pictures and videos of you over the past year. I admired how much you've grown with an ache in my heart knowing that I can never get those tender moments back. At the same time, I look forward to watching you grow and explore every day. Until you're 25. And we finally let you date.

But know this.

You will ALWAYS be my baby. Even next year. Even when you go to pre-school. Even when you are off to your first school dance. Even when you go to college. Even when you meet that "special someone". You will always be my first-born. My precious baby girl.

I cannot believe how much has changed this past year. How quickly it all went by. I cannot believe how much I love you - I didn't know it was possible to feel such love for someone. I love you, Abigail Marie. With all my heart. Happy birthday, punkin.

Love,
Mom.