Dear Cameron,
I cannot believe how fast a year has passed. One year ago, I was witness to your birth. I can still remember the sense of wonder I felt when I saw you for the first time at the hospital. I remember feeling a little nervous and tentative. Would you recognize me by my voice? Would you like me? Did you have all your fingers and toes? And I distinctly remember one last thought as the nurses held you up for Linna and I to see. It was "oh shit... now what?"
After the last twelve months, and I'm not sure about your take on this, but I think I've answered that last question. I may not have always done the right thing or known what to do, but you seem to be very content and happy and frankly, that's good enough for me. Just this morning, I thought we would walk around the house a little with me holding your hands and you doing your zombie impersonation act. But you took half a step, looked up at me, turned around and grabbed my leg, then held up your arms with that whine that I can now interpret as pick me up and hold me.
Speaking of whines, if and when you have a child of your own, you may read in books that parents learn to understand and interpret their babies' noises. I'll tell you now that those books lie. You definitely make distinct sounds and your babbling does sound different from one day to the next. But to be totally honest, I usually have no idea what you're trying to say.
So, what has it been like the last year? The strongest feeling I have is disbelief at how quickly it has passed. It does not feel like 12 months ago that we were in the hospital trying to get to get acquainted. I'm sure when you read this, you'll have experienced the strange phenomenon where every year seems to go by more quickly than the last. But let me tell you, this last year was an order of magnitude faster!
The second thing that really strikes me is how much you've changed. You don't really look like an infant any more and I'm not sure when that happened. You look like a small little kid. With a bad haircut. Sorry about that. But seriously, you sometimes give me these looks that make me think you're actually quite wise and intelligent and that you're pulling the wool over my head - that perhaps you can in fact dress yourself, feed yourself, and could even use the toilet, but that you enjoy the consternation on my face when I have to do it for you.
When I look at the hundreds of photos we've taken of you in the last year, I can really see the change. The first three months, you looked pretty spaced out. I remember that you were for the most part quiet and that you slept a lot. But then, somewhere around month four, you suddenly seemed to change. Your face seemed to change slightly and looked pretty much like it does today. You had been able to hold up your head on your own, but then you started to be able to roll. First only in one direction. And you didn't know how to roll back. But then you realized that you could roll to get somewhere.
Despite being slightly more active - rolling and sitting up - you were still a relatively chubby baby. Your legs used to make me laugh. I wanted to dress you in a tiny sumo outfit. But then, you started to crawl. And your crawl was ugly. For some reason, you didn't want to crawl with your left knee, so you'd crawl forward on your right knee, then lift your whole left leg and place your left foot onto the ground and propel yourself forward like some sort of quasimodo-like crab. It was ugly, but it was effective. You started to thin out a bit as you also grew taller and I think it must have been somewhere around this time that you started to look like a little kid.
I've heard people say that even at your age, a person's basic personality can be seen. If that's true then I think Linna and I have a very peaceful, sweet, and quiet boy. You do seem to be pretty quiet most of the time, which worries me a little. But you look so happy and content that I suppose everything must be okay. You seem to be the observant type. You'll sit and look at a situation for a bit before deciding what to do. You don't seem to be the type of person who needs a lot of things. A simple ball to throw and chase can keep you happy for... well... minutes at a time.
You seem to have a good sense or humor. You used to laugh when somebody would sneeze. But often, you'll look up at me and break into a smile or a silly little chuckle.
I'm not sure what the next year will bring. I suppose that initial question that popped into my head will never really go away. "So, now what?" I know that within a few weeks and probably within days, you will be walking. I know that sometime this year you will start to speak in such a manner that I can actually understand. I think your next haircut will be marginally better than the last one.
I suppose that just like this past year, I will simply have to muddle through the next year. I'll just have to continue to fly by the seat of my pants. Or your pants. Just know that I love you and that each day it feels as if that love grows. Know that when I kiss you on cheek, I am not actually torturing you, but that it is a sign of my love. If I look clueless or confused, just smile and look content and I will know that everything is okay and that you love me too.
Love,
Your Dad