One

I should be sleeping. If my first year of motherhood taught me anything, it's to sleep when you can. But, I can't. My head is flooded with thoughts as my baby is on the brink of turning 1. One year ago tonight I went to bed for the last time with Spencer in my belly.

I am thinking of my labor and how primitive and animalistic it was. How the physical pain tears down the curtains we surround ourselves with to shroud our true emotions. At a certain point you just let go. You don't care who's looking or what you look like or what you sound like - you're never more centered or in the moment.

When the baby arrives you are flooded with beautiful wonderful chemicals that allow you to enjoy those first few moments together instead of collapsing in a tired heap. Those primitive instincts continue and you want to hold and feed and protect your baby. You don't know each other yet, but your mission is clear and you accept your new responsibility with trepidation and wonder and awe.

The first year unravels and you get to know each other. You share your innermost secrets over a jar of Stage 1 Peas. You lie on the floor next to each other giggling at nothing. Your limits of patience are tested. But you never question your limits of love.

Sometimes the days fly by and you are saddened by your inability to take in every detail of development. Other days feel like eternities and you wonder where you'll find the strength to be able to wake up and do it all over again. 

You learn to give up control. And give up sleep. And give up a little slice of your sanity. But somehow you still manage.

Your life is complicated in every way imaginable. Your marriage. Your career. Your relationships with friends. Drinking a hot cup of coffee. It's all different now.

And the source of all this complication is the most uncomplicated creature. He smiles when he's content. And cries when he's frustrated. He laughs when he's joyful. He hasn't learned to put up those curtains to hide his emotions yet. If he could talk, he'd never tell you he's "fine." He'd tell you the truth.

I think if Spencer could talk to me today he'd tell me he's happy and that I'm doing a good job. And to remember he's pretty easy to please so not beat myself up when things aren't perfect. He'd also ask me to feed him cheese for every meal and to stop trying to sneak in veggies. And to please give him back the cool whirly helicopter that he saw me put on top of the refrigerator when I thought he wasn't looking. 

Comments

[becky]

What a thoughtful post -- how many amazing and awe-inspiring things you've experienced this last year! And it's only the start -- congrats Spencer's mom and dad on a year well-done!

[sheri]

i love this. and now i'm going to go cry.

happy one year, sister (and you too, our little brooklyn twin)!

[Amy]

This post sums it all up, it really does. It makes me feel like the first year birthday should really be called the anniversary of giving birth. I want to say more but can't think how - I just feel such a kinship with this post. Thank you for sharing.