One Year Later

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The house is quiet. For the first time I am alone experiencing the quiet stillness of an afternoon nap. A nap that I didn't put Jasper down for - one that came when Nick took Jasper upstairs to change his diaper, while Jasper cried from needing to sleep. I crept upstairs and peeked into Jaspers room - they were sleeping - Jasper draped over Nick's chest. I thought about taking a picture, then opted for blogging an entry.

This week I have been reflecting on the past year - how fast it has gone and how long ago a year is. This time, a year ago, I was in labor. I was crawling on my hands and knees at the top of my stairs, saying outloud, "How can I do this? I am a wimp - I know these cramps are just going to get worse." 

My mom and my midwife both laughed at me.

I am not a wimp. I know that now. While my body undulated with rhythmic muscle contractions to move my baby through me and out into the world, I stood, or sat, or squatted, and followed whatever my body told me to do. I completely surrendered and in the midst of it, I was outside of myself, looking at myself, marveling at how well and easy this was. What had I had been so afraid of all these years? I was amazing. We were amazing - my baby and I. 

My son was born after 12 hours and 45 minutes once true labor kicked in. I was not prepared for what came next.

And now, it's been a year, and I find myself missing that newborn baby. The window of time after he just arrive and we were so fresh and tired and wrecked and new. I hardly remember how wrinkly his skin was, waiting for fat to fill in. Or how blue his hands and feet were. Or how angular and unformed his face seemed. But I watched him so closely! I wanted to take in every detail so I could notice how much he changed. I remember the first time I said "I Love You" out loud and my eyes filled with tears. I was overcome. How can something so difficult be so wonderful at the same time? 

This first year will never happen again. He will grow up to be his own person and hopefully we, as parents will evolve alongside him to be the parents he needs. In the meantime, I have been doing my best to slow down and remember that he is only a baby once and the way he needs me (& us) now is unique to now. I'll cherish the sleepless nights, the nursing, the diaper-changing, the quick evolution of learning to sit up, then crawl, then stand and walk. I'll etch tiny details in my memory like the feeling of his small body curled next to mine, his head pushed into my armpit, his arm draped over my belly, my arm curved along his back while we both slept next to my husband, his father. And I'll remember the mornings, when we all woke up together, with Jasper playing between us, babbling and cooing, pulling himself to stand against our headboard, happy to be with both of us.