A year ago I was so dehydrated from being sick for four hours the nurses couldn't get my IV in and I lost my peripheral vision while waiting for the doctor to get ready for my surgery.
A year ago I heard my daughter cry loudly. I heard the doctor say, "Well, hello, there chubby cheeks," and "someone get this little girl a bow," as he held her over the sheet so I could see my screaming girl with a head full of dark hair.
A year ago, I felt relieved. The biggest sense of relief I have ever felt in my life. When my 8-pound baby was lifted out of me, I felt like 100 pounds had been removed.
An anxiousness had settled on me the night before. A combination of hormones, nerves over the impending birth, second guessing the decision to forego a VBAC and worry over disrupting Peanut's life had made me a crying mess.
I remember trying to hold it together while I watched a movie and the husband made dinner. Unable to hold back the flood of tears anymore, I sat on the steps and cried while the husband tried comforting me.
But all of it - the worry, the anxiousness, the sickness and the pain - were gone the minute I heard Madeline Sarah cry. I was flooded with love and relief.
The first year of the second baby is easier and harder. Easier because I've been here. I don't freak out about every sniffle, every cough, every milestone met or not met. Harder because now there are two little people who rely on us for everything.
But there are two little people to give hugs and kisses. Two little people who hug and kiss each other. Who light up when they see one another. Who wrestle and giggle and smile. Who scream with delight when they hear momma and daddy walk in the door.
Gizmo crawled at 6 months and was cruising soon after. She began walking on her own in the past couple of weeks. She learned to climb the stairs early and figured a way to climb on top of the coffee table around Thanksgiving.
She is my daring one who has given me more scares than I can recall including the most recent where I had to dive down the hallway to keep her from going down the stairs head first. She walked away unscathed while I had a nasty rug burn on the palm of my hand and large dark bruise on my elbow.
She eats anything we put in front of her and has put her four teeth to good use (and bad use. No bite is a common phrase in our house.)
Gizmo's verbal skills consist of dada, mama and baba, which is her word for everything else. She added cat this weekend. While she doesn't have many words, she knows exactly what we are saying. She heads straight for the steps when we say it is time for a bath. She waves manically when someone leaves and she bounces up and down when we say, "shake your booty!" (Shaking her booty seems to be her favorite activity.) She also acts broken hearted when she is told no, her bottom lip sticking out, her chin quivering and her whole face crumbling into a pitiful, red sight.
In a year, she has gone from my little brunette with a head full of hair, to my little rocker sporting a faux hawk to my sweet blond pony tailed girl.
She is the completion to our family. After Peanut, I looked forward to another baby. I knew we weren't done. But Gizmo completes us.
Happy birthday, baby girl.