One year ago……
One year ago, at 2:26 am, my son was born. Today he is one year old. ONE YEAR OLD. I am looking at my son through the baby monitor as I write this down. My emotions keep wavering between deep guttural sobs to pure elation. My son, is ONE YEAR OLD.
If you would have told me two years ago that I would have a one year old right now I would hope that you were a psychic telling me my future (trust me, I did go to a few during my trying-to-get-pregnant days), but deep down I may not have believed you for fear it wouldn’t come true. And now here it is. My little baby, who is no longer much of a baby, but more like a waddling, drooly, pumpkin-toothed toddler, is about to reach his biggest milestone yet.
I think that this past year both our learning curves could be compared to that of a Mt. Everest graph, a colossal mountain which we hiked together, blindly, clinging to each other, but always together, mother and son, as one, learning how to navigate this new world that we both are a part of.
If I look back on all the things I have learned, it would take up much more than this blog entry. But I will sum up most of the highlights, if I can. And I will try without making my keyboard too wet.
One year ago, before you were born, I was neatly folding each onesie that family and friends had given me and made sure they were washed in baby friendly detergent. I neatly placed each one by month and size. I would put each one on my belly and would try to imagine you in them. ~Now they are all packed up, because you are too big, and you now wear t-shirts and pants. Like a big boy. And your mother is lucky if she can find one neatly folded, and has used up all the baby friendly detergent.
In one year you taught me that yes, I can indeed live off of 3 hours of sleep, and work a full time job at the same time. Before I had you, I would obnoxiously say to people how I NEEDED at least 9 hours of sleep, and if I didn’t get it, I wouldn’t survive. It has been one year, and I still do not get 9 hours of sleep. But I have survived, and I am a stronger person because of it. And I have loved you every waking minute that we have had together.
One year ago before you were born, I spent my last day before you were delivered with my best friend, shopping for things for you. That was the first time in four months that I walked around a store, and I was in shock to see Christmas items on the shelf, since the last things I saw were summer items. I walked up and down the baby aisle twenty times touching each different product and realizing that I was about to have a baby. For real. ~ I learned that the cute items that were bought, were not as important as the late night run to Walgreens weeks later for gas drops, Tylenol, and non-scented baby lotion.
In one year you went from being my little 6 lb eating, sleeping, pooping machine, to this young, vibrant ever-learning little boy. I have watched you say your first words, grow your first teeth, and take your first steps. You have developed your own likes, dislikes, and already have changed and touched the lives of everyone you’ve met. You have started developing your own personality which includes feeding the dogs cheerios, pointing and saying words, and biting your mom’s arm while laughing. You are turning into you.
One year ago before you were born your mother had no idea what true love was. Yes, she knew love. Very deep love from many people. But when you were born, all the questions of the universe were answered, heaven opened its gates a bit, and God let me look upon his face while I held a miracle in my arms. From that day, and every day since, I am so grateful and thankful that you are in my life.
Through the last 12 months I have cried, sobbed, laughed, cringed, yawned (a lot), questioned myself, questioned others, all the while trying to figure out this whole new life called mothering.
I could keep writing more, but I would keep writing the same words over and over. I love you Idan Joseph Humphrey. You are the light of my life. Thank you for being born, and giving me the best year of my life! Here we go, toddler-hood!