A celebration of firsts for new family

On a warm, breezy day in August, our friends and family members gathered in our front yard to celebrate our daughter Tilly’s first birthday. I had to wake my sweet girl up from a nap to ensure she didn’t sleep through her entire party.

I rubbed her back, gently causing her to stir, and scooped her from her crib for a few quiet mommy/daughter snuggles before changing her into her party outfit and taking her outside. With sleepy eyes and sheet marks imprinted on her soft baby cheeks, we stepped out the door to greet a yard bustling with lively children, their parents visiting and keeping a watchful eye in the shade, the sound of music and the smell of barbecue and pecan wood still burning on the pit.

Tilly looked at me with confusion, as if to ask, “All this for me?” Leading up to her August birthday, I’d said I would never plan some big event to celebrate. I could rattle off a logical list of reasons why. I would say it was the sort of party no one really wanted to attend. That it didn’t really matter because Tilly would never remember it anyway. I would tell you how kids’ parties these days have gotten so out of hand and I wasn’t going to feed the nonsense. But as the date slowly approached, I realized the only person I was kidding was myself.

After everything the first year of parenthood brings along with it, we needed to celebrate not only her but the fact that Ty and I did it. We survived our first year as parents!

I started to think back on the year’s milestones. In the September 2012 issue of CityLife, I wrote a letter to Tilly. I told her how I loved her the instant they placed her in my arms, and how I’d continued to love her more with each passing day. I explained that her coming into my life had forever changed me and made me a more gentle, patient and an overall better person.

I’ve since thought back on what it was like to bring her home. How Ty probably drove about 15 mph, and I most likely nagged him because even that seemed too fast. How I was so nervous that I slept in the glider in her room the first several nights and peeked in her crib just about every half hour. How it took us approximately half a day to get dressed, packed and ready to go to her first doctor’s appointment.

I think fondly on the wonder and amazement that came in the following months. First smiles, first words, first steps and making my best attempt to resist spilling my joys to anyone who simply asked how we were doing. I will never forget hearing her first laughs echo from her room, dropping what I was doing to dash down the hall and experience it for myself. It remains one of the sweetest sounds my ears have ever heard.

I smile at the thought of her sweet, loving disposition. How she chit-chats and chatters the entire car ride to daycare each morning. How she lays her head on my shoulder when she’s sleepy and generously gives kisses when she sees us at the end of the day.

As we gathered around Tilly that August day, lit the candles on her cake and sang “Happy Birthday” to her, my mind flooded with these memories and my heart filled with gratitude. It was like hearing the birthday song for the first time, the prettiest song sung by a choir of people who love her so much.

I loved Tilly those first moments we shared together, but back then I never could have imagined possibly loving her as much as I do now. A year ago, I wrote a list of promises to my newborn daughter. I promised to love her in a way that she would never question. I promised to make her home a warm, safe haven. I promised to give her my best each day and live out an example of character to her.

I may lose site of it at times, considering it all so ordinary, but we live a blessed life. Health, happiness and a host of loved ones are not things we’re promised. These things are the icing on the cake.

Stephanie Jordan is a local journalist, marketer and blogger. Her blog can be found at www. stephanienetherton.blogspot.com, and she can be contacted at stephanienetjordan@gmail.com.

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