Talking about my babies.
The baby turned 1 this past weekend. 1!
Quite possibly the oldest cliché of all – where did the time go?
With my first child, the first year was eternal. I was smothered by my own emotions, living for him. Nothing mattered but him. It was intense. It was brutal. It was painful. It was exhilarating, and peaceful, and joyful. It was the most of everything I had ever experienced, on top of it all being new.
The first year with my middle child was much of the same, but with more anger. I was tired, and hadn’t slept at all since my first was born, and I was walking into walls all the time. But the need to care, to protect, to cherish, to love, at all costs was still the strongest of all I was experiencing.
This baby, my third child. My healing baby. His middle name means ‘to life’.
For five hours we listened to his heart stop with each contraction when I was in labour. He was tangled up in his umbilical cord. I still don’t know how I managed to keep it together during that time. He was born, large, strong, and beautiful. With him, I’ve learned that parenting doesn’t have to be full of pain, anguish, and anger. Oh, there are moments of it, of course, suffering is part of it all, and perhaps that’s the difference now. I used to sit and stare at my first two, crying, imagining all the pain they would experience as they would grow. Now I know it’s part of what shapes us. It’s nothing to fear or run from. It’s part of learning coping mechanisms, and becoming good strong adults. After all, that’s my main job, is it not? Guiding them into being the best they can adults.
I have an ache in me when I look at him sometimes, yes, it’s still there at moments. He’ll grow, and I won’t have my 24/7 cuddle monster attached at my hip. He’ll join the rest of the world, and while it’s painful to leave that part of life behind, it excites me to see who he’s becoming. His enthusiasm, his love of outdoors and music, his ease and his joy.
Happy birthday baby boy! You’re 1!