I can’t remember how long you were at birth, or when you sat up on your own for the first time. I can remember those first little teeth pushing through your gums, though, and I’ll never forget how little we all slept, or how your cries pierced my heart.

It’s not the big moments I remember, it’s all the ones that fell into the spaces between. It’s the moments that didn’t seem baby book worthy that took root in my memory.

I can’t remember anything but the sheer love we felt the very moment you arrived.

I can’t remember the first word you uttered — at the time, it was the most important thing in my entire life, but now you’ve amazed me so many times, the details have been forgotten.

I’m not sure what you ate first, or which foods you hated, or what you wore on your first day of school.

But there are things ingrained into my very being that I’ll never forget.

I’ll never forget just where your foot jabbed my rib, and how it would move when I rubbed it before you were born.

I can’t forget the swooshing sound your heartbeat made when I listened with a Doppler.

I can see the way your eyes light up when you’re delighted, and I’ll never forget the way my heart feels when it’s me who has made you feel that way.

I remember exactly how your eyes looked up me the very first time we met. The way your tiny fingers felt when they wrapped around my fingers. The way you fit perfectly into the curve of my body when we breastfed together. The way your skin smelled freshly washed.

I can’t bring that adorable baby voice into my mind anymore. Sometimes I watch old videos just to hear it again. I’m so thankful to have them, you know that? I want to conjure that rolling giggle over and over.

I can’t remember your favourite toys, or the name of that kid who picked on you in kindergarten, but I remember seeing you standing tall at your Christmas concert in your first year at school, staring out into the crowd of parents, looking for me and your Daddy, and seeing the joy that illuminated your face when you spotted us.

I can’t remember the words to the book we used to recite by heart, I’m so sorry. I’ll never forget, though, the pride I felt hearing you reading it on your own for the first time.

I will never forget the way you look when you’re sleeping or how your breath feels against my neck when you come to cuddle me. I’ll never forget seeing you be loving and caring and thoughtful and creative.

My dear, sweet, amazing, incredible little child, you’ll never remember most of your childhood, but I hope you remember my love and adoration.

I hope that when the details evade you, the warmth of connection, and complete dedication remain.

I hope you never forget that we just want this beautiful world that’s so brimming with potential and happiness to be yours. All yours.

I can’t remember a lot of things, but I’ll never forget this love.