Mariana's First Birthday

 Joe was assigned the role of photographer on this momentous day.  He started with a selfie.

 My mom was with us for the week and thankfully made a cake for Mariana.  I was on week one of a candida cleanse and wasn't feeling that well.  Mariana was suitably confused by the cake and candle, but was delighted by the singing.

 Like all one year olds, she tried to reach for the candle.

 I think there is a photo from every single birthday in which a non-birthday sibling is looking devastated in the background.

 Another shout out to my mom who provided Mariana's solitary present:  a hand knit sweater and hat.  I have given up buying gifts for our children under three.  The gift usually becomes another piece of junk to be thrown away.  However, gifts like a hand knit sweater set provide much more than just warmth; they are a product of love and a family keepsake.

 She really didn't want her photo to be taken and was determined to stay on the move.

 She briefly settled on Hannah's lap before breaking free for the living room.

Dear Mariana, how we love you.  Your first year was a rough one for our whole family.  Your birth came the day before your paternal grandmother received a terminal diagnosis of cancer.  Consequently, your first three months were spent in a juggle of daddy away on the weekend looking after grandma, while mommy solo-parented.  You were tongue-tied and feeding you was never very easy:  nursing, pumping and formula.  But, there was grace, so much grace.   You were one of those great graces.  As we said goodbye to Grandma Anne, we welcomed you, her namesake.  We named you Mariana and found out two weeks later that your name was that of a saint who is the patron saint of those whose parents are dying.  Your birth was marked by grace and your first year continues to be filled with the very life of God within us.   I have no doubt that your Grandma Anne is praying for you.
You might spend more time being toted from place to place than did your siblings; you sometimes get lost within the chaos - "Does anybody know where the baby is?" - but, oh, how you are loved.  Your siblings wait with anticipation for you to wake up in the morning.  They compete for which one of them you love the most, and there is always a set of willing arms to carry you around like a princess.  I often reflect on how secure you must feel to be so truly loved by so many. Your father has softened immeasurably over the years and, for the first time in 14 years, I see him truly treasuring the baby years.  You, my little one, are the recipient and the catalyst of that love.  I hope you always feel like the lucky number 7 that you are.  (I also hope that you one day reclaim your hat from your older sister.)