On the first day she had no name.

On the third day, somewhere between exhaustion and adrenaline, she was Pearl.

On the 12th day I made final notes in the most absurd and meticulous journal I’ve ever kept. I deemed Pearl’s bowel movements normal and vowed, once again, to never read internet mom advice.

On the 21st day she rolled over and Grandma and Grandpa Haifley were our FaceTime witnesses. Coincidentally, this was the same day I tested the shriek factor on Grandma and Grandpa’s speakers.

On the 52nd day I took 287 photographs and in the haze of naivety known as new motherhood, was certain I would print all of them, the next day. I can’t even tell you where those photos are saved today.

On the 97th day we found that of the many benefits to having a daughter, the impromptu dance parties are our favorite. No matter the time of day, the food in front of her face, or the mental torment of a choking hazard being removed from her grasp, turn on some tunes and this girl can shimmy shake like nobody’s business.

On the 129th day Pearl discovered that Lefty, in addition to being a chihuahua with obvious mental issues, was also a pretty good playmate. Our dog has never been fond of tiny humans charging him but on this day they bonded over a game of tug-of-war. We decided he could stay when he knocked her down and she giggled for two minutes straight.

On the 183rd day Pearl mastered the bear crawl and the running tally of all the “I would nevers” came to an official end as I squealed and hooted watching Pearl scamper across the house and took more photos that I also cannot find to this day.

On the 268th day we discovered that if we laughed every time Pearl shuddered at a pureed, so-called food, she would laugh. Consequently, the second and third bites would go over much better. Laughter is responsible for her love of green beans and squash.

On the 301st day Pearl took her first shaky steps and turned our world upside down, legitimately, this is why our house is always a mess.

On the 324th day she started playing favorites with her books making her mama’s english major heart nearly burst with pride. After the 700th reading of BINGO was his nameo, the aforementioned english major heart developed a slight twitch.

On the 365th day Pearl had her very first taste of the wonder and beauty that occurs when you combine cake, chocolate, frosting, and sprinkles. It is only now that I realize, none of us thought to give this poor kid any milk.

These 365 days of Pearl have been filled with smiles and tears, chaos and giggles, a healthy mix of parental terror with a dash of toddler fearlessness, and a whole lot of sparkle.

One of my greatest fears while carrying Pearl was my ability to express my love for her in the tender way you see so many mothers and daughters interact. Touchy-feely is just not my thing, PDA makes my brows furrow, and even if we’ve been friends for years my hugs are stiff and as brief as humanly possible. These facts tormented me for nine months, I feared we just wouldn’t connect.

At three and a half months old Pearl is rolling, gabbing, grabbing, and smiling. She shows an immense enthusiasm during storytime (that’s my girl!) and is one heck of a charmer in a crowd. She zeros in on me if she’s not in my arms, following my every move with her bright eyes which light up if she hears my voice or spots me across the room. She is thoroughly irresistible which is why I take a particular pride in yesterday’s milestone: giggling.

Sitting on the living room floor, she swung her arms in my direction and flashed a gummy grin, the one that often makes me think I’m on the verge of a very serious heart condition. I scooped her up and planted no less than one hundred smooches on both cheeks and she erupted, her tiny body wobbling and swaying with the effort of her very first giggle. I lost count of the kisses that followed in an attempt to replicate the most incredible sound known to man.

When it comes to Pearl it turns out I’m 100% soft. Like an untapped mine of blazing devotion; I’m a snuggler, kisser, hugger, I’m downright lovey dovey. And nothing in my life has ever felt so natural and right. I know she won’t always giggle at these expressions of pure affection so I intend get my fill while the gettin’s good.

 

Sometimes I find myself racing ahead, even by decades, in life. When Pearl takes an enormous breath, the lung-filling kind an infant only uses to wail, I think of how she’ll be as a teenager. In her tiny, adorable face I can see the pain of hormonal rage 13 years down the road. One day she will say terrible things to me, things I recall saying to my own mother much to my adult shame. She may develop a routine as I did; sobbing, gulping for air, pounding deafening steps into the stairs and thundering my door shut so hard I’m sure I tested the physical structure of our house on several occasions. She will tell me I just don’t understand and she will believe it too.

It’s in these future moments that I know I will lovingly recall today and think it’s such a shame she’ll have lost the memory of our present by then. At four weeks old, Pearl has stolen my reality, nothing matters but her. I exist in a time warp, I lose hours and entire days. People ask what I’ve been up to, here’s a list: we have staring contests that last hours, I study her eyelashes trying to determine the science of their length, I agonize over her fingernails, I wash her hair far too often, sometimes she screams but then snuggles into my neck and promptly falls asleep to the thudding of my heart, we go on walks and she sleeps, we run errands and she sleeps, we read Game of Thrones and she sleeps, we go to bed and she is ready to party Andrew W.K. style.

When I suggested to Logan that Pearl would never remember these days of total, earth-shattering love between us as she grew he scoffed and replied:

Hold onto your hat sweetheart, Pearl just got started loving you.