*Note: This was written on my daughter's first birthday, a month before our current reflection.
I can't believe a whole year with my daughter just flew by. I never expected a simple piece of paper could become such a treasure, but here I am, writing my first annual birthday letter to my daughter on her first birthday. In a world of digital snapshots and fleeting Instagram stories, there's something magical about creating something tangible—something she can hold, read, and cherish decades from now.
When I first thought about starting this tradition with my firstborn, I imagined a beautiful collection of letters that would be more than just a record of dates and milestones. I wanted to create a living, breathing story—one that captures not just what happened, but how it felt. Those crossed-out words, the occasional coffee stain, the raw emotion behind each sentence—these are the things that truly tell a story.
I started with a simple archival box and some of my own stationery collection. It felt special and I know it will stand the test of time. The first letter may be the hardest. How do you capture an entire year of wonder, of sleepless nights, of indescribable love in a few pages? I wrote about her first smile, the way her laugh sounds like tiny wind chimes, how she squeals when her big brother walks through the door after school. I wrote about the ordinary moments that somehow feel extraordinary—our morning cuddles, the way she reaches for me when she's tired, how her tiny hand fits perfectly in mine.
What I've realized is that this isn't just about preserving memories for her. It's about preserving memories for myself, too. These letters are a way of remembering who I was at each stage of motherhood—uncertain, overwhelmed, endlessly in love. I'd love to invite her grandparents, her brother, maybe even close family friends to add their own notes. I want this to be more than just my perspective—I want it to be a tapestry of love, a collection of voices that tell her story.
Some letters might be joyful, some might be raw and vulnerable. I'm planning to write about family traditions, about the stories that have been passed down through generations. I'll include photos, maybe some ticket stubs, pressed flowers—little pieces of our life together. And on her birthdays, we might read a few of these letters together, creating new memories as we revisit old ones.
This isn't about creating a perfect narrative. It's about creating an authentic one. Years from now, when she opens this collection, I hope she'll feel the love that surrounds her. I hope she'll see herself not just as a daughter, but as a cherished part of a larger story—our family's story.
Happy first birthday, my darling. This is the first of many letters, the first thread in a tapestry we'll weave together.
P.S. These are some of my favorite items to create keepsakes for little ones.