Reflections on the First Year

  I'm home with the flu today, and maybe through the end of the week, depending on how I feel and if I'm considered contagious.  I am praying that this is the strain of flu that you were vaccinated for.  I hope you don't get this.  It's miserable.

But I've been able to spend the last three days at home with you, albeit while washing my hands constantly and trying to have as little physical contact with you as possible.

These past few days have made my denial about how close we are to your first birthday wane just a bit.  It's really happening.  You are turning one.

We had your first birthday portraits made at Portrait Innovations this past weekend, so I will entertain anyone who reads this blog with your adorableness while I sap it up about how I am feeling getting this close to your birthday.

This time last year, I was tired.  I was fat.  I was bloated and swollen.  I would actually cry when riding in the car because my back hurt so badly.  It was a production to even roll over in bed.

But I was so excited.  Your nursery was almost finished, and I would walk in there frequently to look at your little things.  They seemed so small.  Tiny socks, small pajamas, soft blankets, little toys - all in sweet, girly colors.  

Our baby girl was on her way, and my heart had never been so full.

And then that glorious, most wonderful day of anticipation was finally here.  We drove to the hospital that morning, and I remember holding Your Daddy's hand while we sat in silence.  There was so much to think about.  We were excited about what was going to happen that day.  We were happy that we were finally going to meet you.  And we were terrified for what the day held.  Would it end in surgery?  Would there be complications? Were you as perfect as we dreamed?

Labor was a waiting game.  After the induction medicine was administered and my water was broken, we just waited.  The nurses checked your progress every hour.  It was all good news all day long.  Around lunch, I knew all your grandparents and Your Daddy were hungry, so I sent them out for lunch.  That was one of my favorite parts of the day.  Not because I had sent out your family - no, they were amazingly supportive and wonderful that day.  But because it was the last time that it was just you and me.  I was able to listen to your heartbeat on the monitor and talk to you.  I prayed a lot during that hour, and I was able to get a little rest.  

Less than five hours later, our dreams and prayers and fears culminated as we held your tiny little body.  You were absolutely perfect.  It was real.  We became parents in that moment that you took your first breath on the outside.  All of the emotions I had held in for almost ten months came flooding out.  I think I scared Your Daddy a bit because I had been basically emotionless all through labor until that moment.  You were PERFECT.  And we had done it.  You and me, Baby Girl.  

Life has been so different since you came home with us.  Our days revolve around you - when you eat, when you poop, when you sleep.  Who is keeping the baby on what day?  When did you last eat?  We can't go here or there because it's too close to bedtime.  

As much as I would love to say how wonderful we are as parents and we are doing a perfect job at raising you, I can honestly say that there are times that I question my abilities.  I look at you, crying, and I've exhausted all that I know to do.  I have literally asked you aloud, "What do you want, Baby?"  I have found within this past year that I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.  You have terrified me in certain moments and I have thought about running away.  I've cried right along with you.

But that's ok!  It's a learning experience for us all.  It's ok for me not to know what I'm doing.  I don't think anyone does, actually.  

But I look at you across the room, playing happily in your play pen.  You squeal with delight as you bang on your piano, playing that same song that we hear five hundred times a day.  And I know that we are doing alright.  

All the moments of frustration.  All the moments of anxiety.  All the pain and stress my body went through.  All the waking up in the middle of the night to check if you're still breathing.  All the trying millions of things to make you stop crying.  All the silly dancing and singing to distract you.  The rocking and snuggling.  The spit up cleaning.  The dirty diapers.  The snot sucking torture.  The googling various baby symptoms and talking myself out of thinking you have a rare African disease when it's really just the hiccups.

It's all worth it.

Because you keep banging on that piano.  And you keep laughing.  And throwing your hands in the air with such expression.

And that makes my heart swell with pride and joy.

I say it all the time, but I am so blessed to be your mommy.  God chose ME to raise you.  God created ME to be Your Mommy.  God chose ME to foster your independence, encourage your creativity, set your boundaries, and mold you to be a person of character.  What an incredible task I have been trusted with!

You are an amazing fit for our family.  You have wonderful qualities of Your Daddy - you are laid back, carefree, and independent.  You also have qualities of me - you are sure of what you want, you are on your own time, and you don't like to be forced to do things.  You are your own person - you are a picky eater, extremely focused, and do not care what anyone else wants you to do.  

But you have completed our little family.  That is, until we have another child.  But if God so chooses that we'll never have another, that's ok.  You are the best thing to ever happen to our family.

I pray that I don't let you down.  That I don't let God down.  That I spend my days working on bettering myself, so I can take the best care of you possible.  I pray that you look back at your childhood and see a Mom and Dad who LOVE you unconditionally and did their very best.  It won't be perfect.  We are going to make mistakes.  But we love you with all that we are.  I hope that you are proud.

So, my dear sweet Baby Girl, we are 14 days away from your first birthday.  I have learned so much about myself in the past year and I thank you for the absolute best year of my life.  For fulfilling my every dream about what it is like to be a mother.

I am filled with immeasurable love for you.  I never want you to doubt my love for you.  No matter what you do, no matter where you go, I will always be your home.  I hope that that comforts you and resounds in your soul.  You are beautiful, you are perfect,  you are yourself, and you are ours.