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!