My daughter turned one three days ago.
I had no idea how much poop a tiny baby can make.
I had no idea I would one day not give a damn about having a
clean house because someone wanted a snuggle.
I had no idea I could survive on such little sleep.
I had no idea how much baby-proofing is required.
I had no idea how much joy could be felt watching someone
learn to do something new.
I had no idea skin could be so soft and smooth.
I had no idea eyes could be so clear and so blue.
I had no idea I could love my husband this much, but a good
father is incredibly attractive.
I had no idea baby shoes were so expensive.
I had no idea how much I would come to love breastfeeding.
I had no idea how much rapid-fire kicks from little legs can
hurt.
I had no idea it was possible to love this fiercely. This
intensely. To know that I would do anything to protect her from harm. To be
perfectly content holding her while she naps. To have the most fun ever making
animal sounds and having pretend tea parties.
I had no idea life would become infinitely better the day
she showed up. And that it would become infinitely better every single day moving forward.
To my monkey: thank you, and I love you.
