Your First Year. Tears.

It's 3 am. I am up not because Jack has awaken me, but because Myles, my oldest boy has decided to bark uncontrollably at 3 am which means I have to walk from the upstairs to the basement to let him know I can let him outside since these days he has become hard of hearing. I'm a solid sleeper, but this journey between floors tricks my body into believing the day has begun.

Truth is I'm angry that my dog has interrupted a precious full night of parent  of a child < the age of 1 sleep, but I'm also sad because it's unlike him to A. Bark. B. Need let out at 3 am C. Not be able to hear me. I know what these things mean.

I suddenly remember being a parent of a child < the age of 1 will end soon. Now I'm sitting in a quiet corner reflecting on the past year. 43% of me wants to walk up to Jack's room, crawl into his crib, curl up next to him and beg him to stay little. To hold his little hand and tell him to stay small like this, that if we can just freeze time I would relive this year over and over and over again and not change a thing.

The remaining 57% feels accomplished in a warrior sense. We made it...the 3 of us. We made it an entire year without a manual (I never did read those things) without anyone watching over us to guide us. We made it.

The beginning was frightening. You were pulled from my arms and taken away. I didn't know what was happening. I couldn't protect you because I had to heal. Your first five days were the most uncertain days of my 29 years. And those days came to an end because of the little fighter you were from birth.

We took you home and put you on the coffee table and stared at you...What do we do next? What now? How are we ever going to make it without the nurses? My mom sat with me in your nursery in the wee hours of night and coached me how to hold you. To stay calm. To be confident in myself as a mother. She told me I couldn't break you, that you were resilient. That's the night I became a mother...when my mother taught me how.

Your first three months were full of walks, of talks, of tummy time and long naps and all the things I read you are supposed to do with babies. I did them. We learned together. I turned a year older. You developed and grew just like they said you should. Those first three months were some of the happiest days of our first year journey together.

The second three months were packed with emotion and adjustment and accepting the fact that being a working mother did not mean I was leaving my baby, but giving him new life experience. I watched you learn from older kids and by your sixth month I watched your little face light up anytime I had to drop you off.

The third three months you reached so many milestones...eating real food, crawling, babbling all day long. We fell into a great routine and you thrived on that routine.

The fourth three months, we pulled you from that routine. We moved. You instantly loved your new house. We turned over a new leaf in these three months when I took you on vacation and realized how adaptable and curious you were...how much you loved going new places, seeing new faces. You saw the ocean for the first time and loved us.

And here we are...just 14 days from your first birthday. You're laying in your crib winding down for a nap repeating sounds of your little baby laptop which leads me to believe you are, of course, a baby genius. And I'm split. 47% of me is so sad to leave this first year with you. And 53% feels so accomplished.

I think I'm going to take that 53% and run with it.

Thank you for today.
Thank you for good health.
Thank you for family.
Thank you.