On this day a year ago, the doctor held up a 9lb 20z baby to me and announced "you have one of these!"
And I'm like "what, a three-month-old baby?"
"oh, you mean a girl".
She was huge. She was a girl. And she was laying on my chest staring at me with the most intense brown eyes I'd ever seen. I had that feeling that you can't adequately put into words, but we try with things like "connection", "deep", "profound" and "primal".
She was a dream baby. She still is. She's placid, she's serious, she's delightful, she's funny and she's adorable.
She sleeps well, eats well and only occasionally pulls the cat's whiskers.
She's everything people say that children are, and she's brought so much to us that we never could have guessed we would be blessed with.
Cliche, cliche, cliche. They're all true.
And today she is one.
She can say "gentle", "ta", "thank you", "hello" and "dad dad".
She pulls herself up on everything but isn't ready to walk yet.
Last night she speared a piece of pumpkin with a fork and brought it to her mouth.
She likes music, and will dance any time there's anything remotely rhythmic on.
She loves swimming and baths, drawing, throwing books around and putting blocks into square holes.
She follows me everywhere I go and has breakfast with her dad every morning.
She has eight teeth and just enough hair to put in an unnecessary but incredibly cute pony tail.
She likes clapping and Giggle and Hoot.
And she is mine.
Happy first birthday, Abby Lee.
You make a lot of people happy.