Dear Cyrus,

You turn 1 almost three weeks back, too good to be true if we had to turn back time to Day 1 of your existence. For sure, this day remains very special to me and for a long time, the memory of your birth will be deeply etched into my mind. We've definitely come such a long way that turning 1 is not just a celebration of you and your milestones.

It takes a village to raise a child. 

We  all turn 1 with you, 1 year of motherhood, fatherhood, parenthood, grandparenthood and you get the idea. I remember watching youtube videos how to bathe a newborn somewhere in the 36th week and suddenly I panicked because you could be arriving really soon. I remember how you peered at me for the first time amidst my claims of "I'm finally not pregnant!" with the most curious eyes and there my little one, we connected.

There was none of the emotional and weepy episodes but it was all a blur. I became a mother. I remember the first few weeks being the toughest and as emotional a roller coaster it was, we all grew with you.

We have your milestones captured on every possible medium and it sounds crazy but I have been taking photos of you every single day and Porpor thinks I'm mad. But you know what? You'd thank me on your wedding day for documenting your life this way.

Every snap is a precious memory and I realised that after those milk coma grins gave way to gummy smiles and the toothy ones (no more bo gay!) and alas, cheeky ones.

You're the first and last I see every single night and you have no idea how much it kills me to even go on a decent holiday without you. What a tear machine, your Dada would say. My phone is filled with so many photos and videos, I may just cry me a river if the phone's memories are ever lost. Can I let you in on a secret that even Porpor and Gong Gong have their phones full of your photos and videos?

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body."

Now I finally get why Porpor had a whole laundry list of "No this and no that" growing up. And I get it. Every single one of them. If I can, I'll probably bubble wrap you. I have a dozen worries about you and each time you're not well my heart does a somersault and worries a hundred times more than I should.

For sure there will be tumbles to come and Momma and Dada are likely to weep together with you but fret not my little one, we've got your back.

Joy.

The immeasurable amount of joy is what I feel when in the crowd I am that face you look out for and give the brightest smile whilst violently kicking your legs. So then, there can be greater joy scoring a cheap diaper deal than that bag I've long coveted. How strange.

Favourite person. 

We all have different rankings in your little heart and if there's a slightest flicker of your preferences, you've got that long figured out. You know where and how to push the buttons, yell the loudest and cry like you've been abused just to get a touch of that wet tissue.

Happy Birthday to me, you and us. 

Happy birthday my little dumpling, it's been a one-derful year, onward to....toddlerhood!