Yesterday was a quiet, contemplative day for me, a day as usual for Levi. One year has passed. One year ago I was in a calm but intense state, birthing Levi in our warm candlelit bedroom. I thought about my transformation as a mother, as a person. I thought about the emergence of Levi: a feeble individual so fragile in the sunlight and in the moonlight, his eyes not understanding. Today he is a feisty baby whose eyes pierce and who loves Peekaboo Morning and laughs when I sign teen numbers. He is full of life. I am full of love for my Levi.