I often read other peoples blogs, and they write the most beautiful things about their child on their birthday. How much they love them, how their life will never be the same, how they burst with pride and happiness. If you’ve ever read me before, then you’ll know that I feel that way. But, seeing as The Boy totally won’t remember his first birthday, I kinda felt like it was a celebration for me.
I made it! One whole year I have been entrusted with a little life and I haven’t managed to mess him up (yet). In spite of his frantic, confused, befuddled mother, The Boy has managed to walk and chat and socialize and play. He eats cream cheese roll-ups and grapes, kicks the ball around the backyard, and kisses our friends and family. He is growing taller. He laughs more then he cries and smiles more then he frowns. He has sparkly blue eyes and a killer smile. All in spite of me.
The first year of motherhood was the hardest thing I have ever done. I have never felt more lost, lonely, scared or nervous. My inability to see a light at the end of a three-hour screaming fit or believe that I would ever sleep for longer then two hours again was, at best, frustrating. I was sure I would ruin my beautiful boy. There were days I didn’t even know if he would make it to three months, let alone be thriving by his twelfth. But here we are…
So, when our closest family and friends were gathered yesterday to celebrate my baby’s 12 months of life, I really felt like a bit of that celebration was for me too. A pat on the back. A “well done”. A “thank goodness you made it this long”. Because during those first few months when there was so much crying and spitting up and bum wiping and praying for just ONE more hour of sleep, I never would have believed that The Boy would have become the bright, fun kid he is today.
And, yes, there are so many more trials to come that I have no idea about (and don’t even want to imagine), but for now I’m choosing to bask in the delight of having brought my little man this far…with my sanity (virtually) intact.