... last night was the NCAA College Men's Finals. One year ago I watched that game from Labor and Delivery. I have been thinking a lot about my baby turning one and this is where I am today... "It's okay." I am so thankful and so proud of myself that during this last year I really have arranged my life to spend a lot of time with Dekker. I told myself often "he's only going to be six months once" etc, etc, and it really helped me keep perspective as I switched jobs, saw very few clients in a week, etc. I don't have many regrets and I think that is a great feeling to have.
Not to mention the fact that I just enjoy the heck out of him. There are things about the next year that I just can't wait for-- like words, and parks, and the pool, and food and no more formula. He is such a buddy to me, and I just can't wait to spend more time with him. I am also reminded that my goal as a parent is to help him grow up. What a shame if he never did. So it's sad, in a way, but so exciting in another way.
Perhaps the most significant part of this week is the way God has changed me. Being a mother has changed me, for the better, forever. I have an entirely new perspective of God's love, God's patience, and absolute joy. I cry at ridiculous commercials, somehow find it appropriate to talk about bowel movements and fevers to almost anyone, and have learned more about infant sleep than any woman ever should. Surprisingly, I love being a mom. I wasn't sure if I would, especially at first. But I enjoy it more than I ever could have imagined. I am so glad that I trusted God and Dave and went on this incredible adventure.
Yesterday I had an unusual day with Dekker. He woke up somewhat crabby-- super unusual. We ran to the post office and made it home before his morning nap. He napped 10-12. By 1:00 he was laying his head down in my lap, still fussy and kinda crying. I took him to his room and turned down the lights and we just cuddled. Eventually I laid him down and he napped again from 1:30-3:30. I hoped he would wake up a new kid but he didn't. He was almost worse, now running a low grade temperature. We tried to play in the living room, but he just was having no fun at all. I gave him some Tylenol and again sat with him in his dark nursery, a blanket draped over both of us, resting and relaxing together. It dawned on me-- he needs me. I tried to lay him down again and he screamed. I smiled. So we rocked and rested and sang until that fever broke and Dad was off work. Sometime in that (fantastic) moment-- of cuddling, loving, knowing I could give him exactly what he needed-- I became okay with his first birthday.
I have a lifetime to let him go, and I pray to God that as time passes that I will slowly be at peace giving out the little pieces of independence that will one day prepare him to outlive me. And I will cross those bridges as they come, knowing that today's bridge still holds a sweet baby. And I don't want to miss out on this sweet baby worrying about tomorrow.
On the journey,
PS. I worked out Sunday (4 miles), Monday (step aerobics) and hope to walk at least Wed and Friday. Today, I was down about .5 and I am hoping for a great week!
PPS. I wrote this blog while getting my oil changed. Isn't technology amazing?!?