Dear Moon Piper (Piper Luna),
You’re a year old today. You stormed into my life in every way, and a bit literally in one way. One day I was asking your dad if we could try again for another baby in about 6 months, and the week after that talk I was telling him that I was already pregnant. A year ago today I didn’t even know I was in labor, you snuck out of the womb like a tiny little ninja. You were born a little after 9 pm, just three hours shy of being born on your father’s birthday. You wanted your own birthday, and I get that.
I look back now and I know that I needed you before I even knew I needed you.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to love another child as much as Harmony and would neglect you in some ways, because it felt like my heart was already overflowing. You proved me wrong, and my heart grew to accommodate the pure adoration that I felt the moment I laid eyes on you.
Your birth signifies so much more to me than just the day you came earth side. Your birth was the day I took control of my body, and after years of hearing “You can’t do that” from doctors, I proved them wrong. I was able to take control of my body and mind in ways that I had never thought possible. Instead of feeling trapped, I felt free. You helped me feel free again. I had the most empowering birth experience, and you were the star of the night. You are my little Moon Piper, born swiftly under the dim light of the moon. Five minutes after you were born, it started to storm. I can still remember the sound of rain hitting the ground so hard, because it mimicked the sound of my heart as I took everything in about you. You came into this world so quietly, as if you’ve already been here before.
It’s been a year since I first held you. A year since I looked into the eyes of my second baby girl and felt my vision get fuzzy and the world stop in its tracks. A year since I looked into giant eyes that mirrored my own. A year since your very first latch, and a year since the first time I held your tiny hand in mine and noticed the dimples that reflect the ones on my hands. A year since I noticed how observant you were, even as a newborn. A year since I watched your dad become the proud father of a gorgeous daughter once again.
Now we’ve made it to a year of breastfeeding, and you’re walking more and more everyday. Now I look into blue eyes that are turning green, and the little bits of blonde hair that grace your otherwise bald scalp. You have a way of making others smile, and I don’t think you’ve ever met a stranger. I’ve had so many people approach me just to mention your giant smile and pretty eyes. You seem to have the exact opposite personality as myself and your sister, but that’s honestly something that we both need.
I need your smile. I need your giant eyes to give me a bit of optimism. I need your little arms reaching around me to snuggle. I’ve needed you all of my life, I just didn’t know it until you arrived Earth side. You don’t laugh very often, but when you do it’s enough to lighten up the darkest of places. In that sense, you remind me so much of my dad and my granny. Your laugh is so special, and it resonates deeply in my mind and heart.
You have a love for everyone, and I can tell you’re going to be someone that sees the good in all people. That’s something that I don’t want you to lose. I want you to see the good in the world. I want you to see that good and change others, because I know you can with the kindness you show to so many at such an early age. You’ve helped your sister open up a bit more herself, and I know that she needs you as well, even if a few years down the line it might not seem that way.
Your smile and adventurous personality have inspired me so much over the past year. You’ve inspired me to look around at the wonders around me a bit more, and you’ve inspired me to write and create more. I can’t recall a single morning when you were an infant where you didn’t wake up with a smile on your face.
Moon Piper, you are so incredibly special. You will always mean so much more to me than you will ever know. I can’t explain gracefully just what your presence in my life means to me, but I will spend my life trying to express it with words. A year ago my world changed once again, and in the absolute best way possible. I would endure the med-free labor I did with you 1,000 times over again just to experience the overwhelming amount of love I felt the moment I was finally able to place you on my chest. Every bit of pain I felt in that intense labor was worth it for that one moment of relief I felt the moment I looked at you. It was an instant pain reliever.
Happy birthday, Moon Piper. I can’t believe a year has already passed. I can still remember the intoxicating smell of your newborn skin. I can still remember the long nights I spent sitting up nursing you and gazing at your sleepy face. A year later I’m watching you play and walk. I now imagine what kind of toddler you’ll be, because there’s a part of me that thinks I will be chasing after you fairly often. A part of me is sad, because I wish I could slow time down. I wish I could sit in our chair forever and cuddle. I don’t think there’s a human being on this planet that loves to cuddle more than you.
I wish I could experience every moment with you 100 times again before we moved on to the next moment. Unfortunately, I cannot, and here we are a year later. Here you are walking and babbling, and here I am crying because I swear I just brought you home yesterday. I hope first birthday on Earth is so happy. You deserve it and so much more. You’ve helped to pull me out of one of the darkest seasons of my life. Your first year here has made such an impact on me and everyone that has met you, and I know you’re going to help change this world.