Yesterday, I found out I was pregnant with you, which explained why all I wanted to do was sleep and all I wanted to eat was hot dogs and seaweed (not together, no).
Yesterday, I birthed you. Exhausted, vulnerable, and curious, we met eyes for the first time and we both wailed in triumph.
Yesterday, we brought you home and entered a different dimension lived in robes and diapers and comically-sized menstrual pads and nipple products, where sleep was a distant relative only seen every other Christmas.
Yesterday, I watched you languidly peel yourself out of some velcro swaddle contraption that I had one-day shipped, I’m sure, in an effort to soothe your tiny, mysterious body. I would watch you do this hundreds of times, each with a smile and mimicking squirm of my own.
Yesterday, I caught your face lighting up at the sight of a balloon. Your firmly clasped fist pulled the string erratically enough to make the balloon bounce on your fuzzy duckling head, “ba ba ba”ing with glee.
Yesterday, I observed you doing something (who knows what now) concerning about which I have read no fewer than 692 articles online.
Yesterday, I fed you from my body for the last time, cursing and crying in the same breath.
Yesterday, I felt that pit in my stomach leap as you took your first hard tumble on the pavement, exuberantly celebrating your newfound bipedal skill.
Yesterday, I watched you deep in thought, and I lost myself thinking deeply of how familiar those thoughts seemed, even if I wasn’t yet sure of what they were.
Yesterday, I dropped you off at daycare. Then, preschool.
Yesterday, I went from hearing you find your voice, to finding wit and charm and humor in your use of it.
Yesterday, you learned to write your name, throw a ball, count to 20.
Yesterday, you just wanted to be held.
Yesterday, you refused to hold my hand.
Yesterday, I felt the passage of time more acutely, mourning the loss of these installments of who you are becoming, and who we are becoming together, and excitedly looked forward to mourning many more moments that pass.
Today, you turn 4.
How this all happened over a span of 4 years - I’m not quite sure. Feels like yesterday.