I ardently wished for a son the way most women wish for daughters to dress up and take to tea. It sounds silly, but I just always knew it, felt it in my bones, that I would have a daughter, and the Little Lady is every bit the pink-loving, bow-wearing, ballet-dancing girl I’d anticipated.
But a son, such an appealing blank slate, a chance to raise a child free of my own private expectations. Our relationship could be whatever we invented, whatever we wished it to be.
And so it was that precisely one year ago the sweetest of little boys became mine. I adore his chubby dumpling feet, the husky way he says “Mama,” and the special smile he has only for me, like we have a secret. It is with no small amount of sadness that he becomes less and less of a baby each day, inevitably heading towards the drama of toddlerhood. But for today, and perhaps a little while longer, he is still my delicious, smiling, handsome baby boy. Happy first birthday, my darling.