Does anyone have a tissue?

One year ago. Pregnant. Hugely pregnant. My parents had arrived in anticipation of Julia's birth. My dad was already joking that I should go jogging; anything to move the baby along. My latest appointments had shown absolutely no cervical changes, which is the way I have babies. Nothing changes until real labor commences. I was feeling withdrawn, urging my body to get on with the work at hand. Knowing that Grace was late, I was certain that Julia would be too. Of course, we didn't know she was Julia then. She was possibly Paul or maybe Laurel, but not yet Julia.

Now here I am one year later. One blissful year of development with memories of a birth so powerful. My dear little Julia, how will you ever know how much you are adored. Just as my dear little Grace can never understand fully how much I ache with love for her.

The next week I will steal moments with my baby. I will wonder at her legs that have gone from chubby to long. I will laugh at her toothy grin, and I will marvel at the miracle, however trite that sounds, of birth. I will kiss both of my girls until they squeal. Grace will tell me to stop, but what she doesn't know, and what Julia has yet to verbalize, is that I love them beyond myself, so much that I am reduced to tears with the thought of them, with the smell of their beautiful bodies and their fine, silky hair. They are of my body and yet their own.

Julia, Julia, Julia, my sweet little bug. Soon to be one year old. My hopes and dreams are limitless for you. I hope your father understands that this next week and the day of your birth are going to be, what's the word, a little emotional for your mother. That is the understatement of the year. Does anyone have a tissue?