That night before your baby’s birthday hits different

 That night before your baby’s birthday hits different.

You tuck them in and suddenly you are back at the room.
Back in the quiet of that first night, counting tiny breaths and staring at their face because you could not believe they were yours.

You look at them sleeping now, all long legs and big kid features, and it feels like you blinked and missed a thousand versions of them.
The newborn who fit on your chest.
The wobbly toddler who ran with their arms behind them.
The little kid who needed you for every single thing.

You feel proud of who they are becoming and at the same time you mourn all the versions of them you will never get back.
No one talks about how birthdays are a little bit grief for moms.
How you sit there in the dark, scrolling through old photos, wondering if you soaked it up enough, if you were as present as you meant to be.

So you kiss their forehead a few extra times.
You fix their blanket one more time.
You whisper “thank you for choosing me” into their hair.

Because tomorrow they will wake up a year older.
But tonight, just for a little longer, you get to hold on to this version of them.