The days before we knew you seemed to drag on. Our hearts had been broken and beaten, and we felt like we would never get to you.
But here we are.
Three hundred sixty-five days have passed since you took your first precious breath earthside.
Three hundred sixty-five days since our hearts grew bigger than we ever imagined possible.
Three hundred sixty-five days since you made our first baby a big sister and gave us the absolute privilege of watching her blossom as one.
Three hundred sixty-five days since we finally found our missing piece.
Looking back, it is so incredibly clear that time is truly a thief. While so many of those days in the last year felt so long, it also feels like I blinked and here we are.
I close my eyes and still dream of those late-night feeds, just me and you in a dark, quiet space. Making sure you knew how safe and secure you were in this home and in our lives. I dream of those big baby yawns and sleepiest little smiles.
I blink and I see you smiling up at your big sister for the very first time and every single time after that (and there are so, so many). I see your first giggle. Your first real belly laugh.
I find myself scrolling through my photos way after bedtime and struggling to figure out how this little, helpless baby has turned into a real little human right before my very eyes. Strong-willed, determined, and growing into her own way every single day.
But most of all, I find myself wondering, did I soak it all in enough? Did I savor every possible second I could before they became fleeting memories? Did I do enough? Did you have enough?
Then I look at you. And while I still see that tiny baby snuggled up on my chest, I also see the sweetest, silliest little girl wobbling around and letting her personality shine. I see a little girl who wakes up and goes to bed happy and healthy. That’s what makes this a little easier. Knowing that while I may not have that tiny baby in my arms anymore, I get to see this new person coming alive every single day.
I try not to live in the memories of the last year. I try not to feel sad that so many of your firsts have come and gone in an instant. Some days it’s harder than others. Some days I want to be back in that hospital room in the quiet morning hours, sleepily staring at your perfect little face. All of the hurt and pain and fear disappeared the moment I laid eyes on you.
But time waits for no one, and now we have to embrace this next chapter of your wonderful little life. A life we hoped and prayed for, for so much longer than the 365 days that just flew by.
So on your first birthday, we want you to know that while we always knew how badly we wanted you, we truly had no idea how badly we needed you. To fill our home. To fill our hearts. To make us all want to be the best versions of ourselves every day.
To know that while you may be the smallest member of our family, your presence is so, so big, my sweet girl. You were the brightest light after the darkness. The biggest hope after loss.
While you may not have been the one to make me a mom—a privilege given to your big sister—you have made me a better one and a stronger one. You have given me some of the best moments of my life over the past year, and I can only imagine how much better it gets from here.
Today, we celebrate you. The wonderful, magical, miracle of you, my rainbow baby.
by Lauren Hedrick 
by Meagan Houle 
by Melissa Haase 
