Just Yesterday

For R. 

On the eve of your second birthday.

Two years ago today, I would meet you tomorrow.

Everyone said first babies came late, 

but you came nine days early.

7 pounds, 9 ounces, and perfect from head to toe.

Maybe you cried when you first came out, 

but I don’t remember.

I do remember the first time you laid on my chest.

The first time I saw your dimples.

They put you in the bassinet,

and I pushed you down the hallway to our room.

Slowest and proudest walk of my life.

Jordan and I so exhausted we could hardly keep our eyes open, 

yet unable to sleep because we wanted to make sure you were okay.

Two years ago today, I would meet you tomorrow.

You passed your hearing test with flying colors,

startled awake at the softest sound.

Cried during your entire newborn photoshoot at the hospital.

The nurse had to show us how to change your diaper,

wrap a swaddle,

adjust the straps on the car seat.

We left the hospital at 5:00 pm and drove home during rush-hour traffic.

I kept reaching back to make sure you were breathing.

Two years ago today, I would meet you tomorrow.

Flashing two dimples and looking just like your daddy.

You slept, and we couldn’t stop staring.

You yawned, and we snapped pictures.

You sneezed, and we laughed.

You couldn’t do much, just laid in my arms.

But you were so curious, looking at everything and everyone around you.

Then, I blinked.

And you held up your head

and sat up

and rolled over

and crawled

and walked

You smiled and called me mama.

Two years ago today, I would meet you tomorrow.

And yet, somehow,

please ignore this cliché,

but it really does feel like it all happened 

just yesterday.

*Repost (slightly edited) from last year.