To my Fat Little Whitty Bear,

The week of your first birthday had me all sorts of emotional. Mostly because it was the first time in awhile I gave myself the opportunity to recall those first few days and weeks surrounding your birth. But also because this past year went by quicker than any other previous one ever has and I found myself missing tomorrows that haven’t even come yet.

Fatty Pants, you are a delight. Pure delight. You fought hard for your right to be here and you are determined to enjoy it. I welcome and support this pursuit.  Aside from teething and hunger, you are happy, pleasant and easy. Your little teethies waited a long time to come through and when they did, they all came at the same time about a month ago. 8 to be exact and all in the space of about 4 weeks which made you an uncharacteristic grumpy pants. It seems we are on a break though now and you have returned to your jolly self. As far as being hungry goes, you are, a lot. And when you want it, you want it right now. You’ve figured out that what the rest of are eating tastes way better than what you have been eating and therefore want nothing to do with the lousy stuff. You love carbs and have a legitmate problem with portion control. A slice of banana bread? Get real, give me the loaf you say. A pancake? One pancake? Get a hold of yourself and give me one for each hand. And I can’t wait for the day you can see the video of you ATTACKING your cupcake and birthday cake, it was nothing short of amazing. It takes a rare moment for Oning or me to tell you no, because we take great amusement in your fatness. You are so magnificently chubby. My favorite is when your head is down looking at something in your hands you’re trying to work with. Your cheeks are resting on your chest as your chubby little hands and arms manipulate whatever it is you’re holding. I grit my teeth until I have lockjaw and just want to squish, kiss, squish, kiss!!!

You were unmotivated to move until about 2 months ago. Life was good with a pile of toys on the floor or a cruise in the stroller. But now that you’ve figured it out, you’re desperate for it. Walking mostly. You know how to crawl and will do it to get from point A to Point B, but you much prefer to walk. Along furniture, walls, railings, or holding  onto someones hand, but just one hand. That two hands business is for sissy’s. You’re jonesing to move and I imagine will be in the go within days really. Until then, we’ll all enjoy the little hand holding we’re getting from you.

You are like your brother and sister at this age in the sense that you love to be outside. You much prefer it to in. You love a stroll in the buggy, playing with your feet and singing a song as you go. I watch you thoroughly enjoyed with yourself and wish we could all be as uninhibited as a 12 month old baby.  You’ll sing to the birds, the ducks, your friends Ella, Alyan, Noah, the street sweepers, all the passerby’s. I find it so charming. You head to the park virtually every morning with Oning while I run your older sister and brother to school. We refer to it as your school. Off you go in your stroller to play with your classmates and their nanny’s. When I walk to the park in the evenings sometimes with you and your siblings, ALL the nanny’s know you. ‘Hello Whittman!” they say. ‘How are you doing today Whittman?’ ‘You are so guapo!’ People I don’t know even know, know you. You win over hearts where ere you go my boy.

You finally decided to give your mama the rest she so desperately needed at about 8 months when you committed to sleeping through the night. Since that time, you’ve really been quite a dream in that regard. You go down around 7 and wake 10 to 11 hours later. You’ll sleep through teething, coughing and regretfully, even vomit. Luckily, I have caught that before morning, so you don’t spend the ENTIRE night rolling around in it. Better now than when you’re 21 I suppose. You share a room with your brother and often times you two will wake each other up. If I hear shrieks and giggles in the morning, it’s usually because Bode has hopped in the crib with you and the two of you are having a gay ole time together. You tire of it when he starts sitting on you. While he does think this is funny, he is without a doubt you’re biggest fan. Bode is very sweet with you. You love to tag along on rides in his jeep and I imagine watching you two create mischief will be both my greatest joy and measure for patience these next 15 years. Tessa loves you too, she finds great satisfaction in kissing your cheeks. I’m telling you kid, you’ve never come across a person yet that didn’t think you were the bees knees.

I tend to think that notion will continue for some time. You are a special baby Whitt. You’re entrance into this world was frightening and caused an enormous amount of stress and concern. And if there’s one thing I want you to know from your first year on Earth, or even the first 5, it’s this. You brought the world together on November 3^rd Whittman. In collective prayer. For you. Muslim, Christian, Jew and Sikh were praying for your well being. For your mind and body to be whole, for the physicians charged with your care, for your will to battle it out. It was their prayers, in combination with your tiny, but bold spirit determined to give it a go on this Earth, that saved your life. That breathed air into your lungs and worked out the transmitters in your brain. You will never convince me otherwise. Be grateful for these good people as your grow Whittman, they have played an integral role in your life. If you don’t meet them in this life, you will in the next. My prayer is for your continued health. But also, for your life to be one that will make these 1000’s of people proud they prayed for you to survive. Be kind, be empathetic, continue to be happy and spread joy, continue to be determined and to battle for those things that matter. You seem to already know how to let the other stuff go. Your will is strong in those things that matter deeply to you. You’re a BABY, but I believe you have a strong sense for what matters and what doesn’t. I hope that sense will endure and only grow more sure.

As I look back on this last year I have some regret. I spent this past year more tired, more physically and emotionally exhausted, more at the end of my rope than I ever have. If I give it too much thought, I wonder at times how I did it. But I remember when I see you. You’re SO easy to love. Even in the middle of the night, even (rarely) when you cry inconsolably, I have a perspective now that a.) you won’t wake up in the middle of the night for years on end and more significantly b.)  you didn’t cry for the first month of your life. We didn’t know if you could, or for awhile, if you ever would. For this reason, your crying, your discontent becomes measurably more tolerable. You’re here. At least you’re here, crying and discontent.

You smile with your whole face, I think it could light up the whole world. You have a boundless joy. It’s contagious. Happy Birthday my fat little nugget. There’s a place in my heart with your name on it. Tattoed. Permanent. Not for sale. I love you Sugar Butt.