My Baby is One

Baby A is one year old. A huge milestone in her life, but also a day I consider a milestone in mine, that deserves celebration for both of us. ONE. In itself, it seems so small, but when I stop to think about the amount of life in that one year, I am amazed.

A one year old daughter- a year of motherhood. That one year is so much more complex than it sounds-- one of those things you have to live to understand. Getting through the tears (both her's and mine) to the moments of giggles and awe. Although the 26 hours of labor seemed to have shrunk in my memory, I remember very vividly the moment that A was actually born. I can still hear the words whispered by her daddy and can feel the emotions when I held her for the first time. I remember thinking that the first few weeks of her life were long and tough. The moments of holding a sleeping Baby A in my arms as I rocked her in her nursery are embedded in my memory, something I want to hold on to forever, to easily recall as A continues to grow up. I hope I never forget the newborn smell she carried and the bliss I felt upon hearing her first coo. She is now making her transition into a toddler-- crawling, standing, and beginning to walk. Listening to her bang on the back door and yell "dada" through the window as her dad takes care of the pool and does yardwork is heartwarming. Hearing her say "mama" instantly puts a smile on my face and has the magical ability to make any of my problems disappear. I look forward to opening the car door to get her out of her carseat, as she smiles and says "hi." These little moments fill my life now, and, although its a very different life than I had a year ago, I wouldn't change it for anything.

In the last year, I have learned patience. I have learned that there is more than one "right" way to do something (although my way is usually better ;]). I have cared for pink eye, ring worm, ear infections, and colds...so many colds. I have felt a deeper love for my husband than I did before. I have felt joy so real that it hurts and understood a new definition of responsibility, as well as anxiety. I've grown to love my "lived in" looking house and my postpartum body. I've tried to live more purposefully, focusing on the behaviors, attitudes, and values that I want A to "inherit" from me. I also feel that A has given me a small piece of her wonder- helping me see the world with a little more awe and excitement, as I watch the learning and the enchantment on her face and in her eyes. In the last year, I've been exhausted and felt exhilirated. At times, I've trusted my gut and other times, I've questioned myself. I've nursed and nurtured. I've watched and listened, savored and recorded. I've sought reassurance and encouragement. I've been amazed and overwhelmed, grateful and relieved. I've cried tears of pure happiness and tears of frustration. I've learned sacrifice and found a new level of strength. I've become more of who I'm meant to be. I've given birth. I've become a mother.

So, as we celebrate A on her first birthday,  I also cheers to my first year of parenthood. A year of survival, of growth, of love- here's to the tears, the joy, the learning, the journey. And here's to many more!

What I've Gained After Losing My Father

For the past 5 years, Father's Day has been difficult. Every day of the year I think about and remember my father, but father's day reminds me he is gone.

I'm a lot like my dad, in more ways than I wish to be. I'm certainly stubborn and always know  (think) I'm right. I'm a little bit bossy and a lot type A. I need plans for structure and prefer to lead than follow. I'm a stickler for grammar and believe hard work will take you places.

However, along with remembering my dad, it's also a good day to remember the things he taught me and instilled in me - both when he was with us and after he is gone. Alomg with stubbornness comes perseverance. Because I need to be right, I'm eager to learn and thrive on knowledge. Plans mean I'm prepared, and hardwork equals hardwork.

After he died, I learned the importance of family, and those who are like your family. I know it's not only about achieving and accomplishing goals, but cherishing, living, and being in those moments in between. That's where life happens. And I gained that lesson just in time to be in each and every moment and milestone, big or small, as my daughter grows up.

Each and every day I wish my dad was here. The grief may live on, but resilience triumphs.

A Letter to my Daughter on my First Mother's Day

Dear A,

The past 9 months have been the happiest, most exhilarating of my life. The moment we met, we were both crying—you because you had bravely leapt into a bright, strange world, and me because, after hours of waiting and pushing, it only took one instant for all of my hopes, dreams, and wishes to become tangible, all in the form of you. The only words I remember are “She’s beautiful,” whispered by your father, as I finally got to hold you close. I stared and smiled and cried. This is the moment I became a mother, and I will never forget it.

Everyone says that you will grow up too quickly, and it’s a sentiment I didn’t understand until I was living it. Already you are no longer the little newborn who would sleep in my arms all day. You make me wish I had the ability to overcome the concept of time itself, so that I could rewind and relive all your sweet milestones, or fast forward so I don't have to wait one more minute to see who you become. Or pause, I really want to pause. Each new stage you enter is my new favorite, although I am sure I will say that about each and every one.

Sometimes I sit and stare at you as you sleep, watching your chest rise and fall. Sometimes when you smile and laugh, I almost want to cry, so overcome with emotions of how you are so completely perfect, and how I am simply lucky. As comforting as I know I am to you, you are the same to me. A rough day is made better the second I see your face and hold you in my arms.

I often think about how motherhood has changed me, and how I continue to want to change, in order to be the best mom I can be for you. You have taught me to be patient and that planning isn’t everything. You have taught me that making mistakes isn’t weak, it is how to learn. You have shown me that responsibility has a stronger definition than I ever imagined. You have shown me all the happiness my heart can hold in a single smile or laugh. I want to become stronger, kinder, and wiser for you.

Life before you was simple, easy. The house was clean, and I was always on time (read: early). I never had spit up on my clothes, never had worry about childproofing the kitchen or the stairs. I’d never find a pacifier with my purse while at work, or carry small toys and Puffs with me everywhere.

But now I can’t imagine my life any other way.

I wish I could hold your hand for all the scary parts of life and protect you from any insults and disappointments that you may face. I wish I could make it so you would never fail and never have your heartbroken. But I know that as you experience these uncomfortable situations and continue to grow, you will have resiliency and strength.

On Mother's Day, I wanted to reflect on the joy you bring to my life and the gift you are to me. This time last year, your dad and I would sit, wondering what you would be like and who you would look like. That time seems so far away. We sat wondering about you, but never stopped to think about how we would change because of you. You, my dear, are perfect, and I feel lucky to be your mom.

Being your mother is the most important line on my resume. It is the title I hold most close to my heart and the one I think of most often. As you grow older, know that I will always love you, no matter what. Even on the days you don’t really like me, know that I am always trying my best, working my hardest for you. You mean everything to me and that will never change.

Love, Mom