To Charlotte, On Her First Birthday

Dear Charlotte, One year ago today, at 6:40 a.m., you wriggled, I pushed, Dr. Apgar pulled. And then we parted, you and me. You looked like an alien, my darling girl. Daddy cried, I cried, and you cried loudest of all. We were strangers at our first meeting, despite you having rented my womb for the previous 9 months. With time I learned your quirks and habits, noises and talents. In amounts we did not think possible, you pooped on us, peed on us, spit up on us, drooled on us, and wiped your nose on us. And in equal measure, you smiled at us, laughed at us, talked at us, and cuddled with us. In October, you scared us. And reminded us how much we love you, how central you are to our happiness, how your existence made us a family. You've taught us much, little girl. From you, we learned that little Hofmanns are more important than work, and that little Hofmanns are worth working so very hard to provide for. We learned that we can function on no sleep, that no mess is too gross to clean up, and that errands can wait until after naps. We learned what it felt like to love harder than thunder can thump a stump. We love your sparkly chocolate eyes, your Alfalfa hairdos, your chubby thighs, and the way your tummy hangs over your pants. We love your honking laugh, your insatiable curiosity, and your classic Charlotte smirk. We love the baby you were, the toddler you’re becoming, the girl you’ll become, and the woman you’ll grow up to be. Happy birthday, little girl. Oh, how we love you. Love, Mom