Dear Roman Mae Soderberg,

Today you are ONE year old. A whole year.

You were meant for me. For this family. You completed us in ways I will never be able to fully describe. But girl. I almost can’t remember a time without you. Or maybe I just don’t want to? I keep thinking to myself,

“how could it have only been a year?”

It’s like I have had you all along.

But in other ways, I feel shocked that it has already been a year. I remember your birth like it was yesterday. I remember that exact moment I fell in love with you. You, my dear, changed me oh so much. And this last year has been the happiest I have ever been. Your daddy sent me a message yesterday. I had been telling him about my blog. About some sweet emails I received from readers. And then, I was telling him all about my playdate that morning. How I had watched you and your brothers — ecstatic for life — while enjoying girl talk with a momma friend. And your dad. He wrote me this:

“Dude! You are finally living the life you always wanted. Is that cray?”

He is right, sweet girl. It is cray… cray cray, even. And, if you look back on this and don’t understand mom and dad’s lame lingo, that means “crazy” (cool, right?). Before you, I was lost. And lonely. And while your brothers kept me very busy, entertained, and in love. I was missing that piece of me. That uninhibited confidence and love in myself. You, my brave girl, gave that to me. Your presence. Your dynamic personality. Your ability to be happy — no matter what — is infectious. And inspiring. I had always been calculated and planned. You came along. You rocked my world in the best of ways. You taught me that letting life come to you is so much more natural than trying to force your ways. Your agenda.   It’s no secret. You, my love, were not on the agenda.

But how lucky was I that God didn’t operate on my timetable.

So, to the girl that finds the joy in everything. Loves everyone (I’m still shocked at how you melt hearts. Not just mine.) The girl who, when we left the hospital last month, the doctor stopped me on the way out the door just to say,

“That girl is something special.”

Happy birthday and I couldn’t agree more. You’re clearly something special.

Miss Roman, you have my heart. My soul. And I am so very thankful that you are mine.

Love, Mama

Ciao! Girl