Today you are one year old. That means that exactly one year ago, I was holding you for the first time, watching you sleep for the first time, nursing you for the first time, and kissing your sweet baby hair on the top of your sweet head for the very first time. Your daddy held you for the first time, and stayed up with you for the very first time. And we changed your tiny diaper together, for the very first time. You were very big, and very healthy, and absolutely perfect in every way. I never had to worry about you being too small, or too frail, or having any condition that caused us worry. Just about every day, I thank my lucky stars that you are here, and you are real, and you are healthy and beautiful.
Ever since I had you, I think a lot about all of the women and men out there in the world who have lost children — before birth or after. I know that it’s a little bit morbid to think this way, but I can’t help it. I think about how dark my world would be without you, now that you have entered it, and I wonder how so many parents who have lost so much can survive. I suppose it is the nature of the human spirit to push forward, but still, I say a prayer for all the children lost, and I try to remember how special and miraculous you are in every moment that I spend with you.
This has been a special year for me and your father. I can say for myself that I now feel like a woman instead of a girl now — marriage, home ownership and a really amazing full time job were important steps along the way — but you make me feel grown. I don’t know how to explain that in concrete terms. After all, I don’t do a lot of adult things — like clean my house or get regular car washes. I certainly struggle with organization day to day, and I sometimes pay bills too late. Those are things my parents never struggled with, and therefore, they are the things that I associate with adulthood. I also still want to play and travel, and watch ridiculous television — my maturity level in those ways has not changed. I guess it is that you make me feel like there is something greater in my life than just me. There is a person that needs me for food and clothing and warmth and love. There is a person who will need me for homework and music lessons and going to the playground. Because of that, I feel more important and meaningful in this world than I ever did before I met you.
People find meaning in life in many different places. For some it is their job. For others, it is their passion for music or art (or accounting? perhaps?). For me, it is you. You inspire me to be more patient with myself, to love myself more, and to be positive even when it feels that I cannot or I should not be. I want to be a role model for you, as you grow up and find out who you want to be.
Today was a sad day in some ways. I cried several times sitting at my desk at work, thinking about how you’re such a little man now. Where did my baby go? He’s walking now, and picking up the remote and talking into it like a phone. Here’s the secret I have to remember; you’ll always be my baby. Sam, even when you’re ten years old and it’s really not cool to have such a sappy mom, you’ll be my fat little baby. You’ll be my baby all the days of your life, my beautiful little baby.
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I’m a liberal feminist that believes that liberal, feminist ideals should gel with embracing your gender and motherhood (if that’s what you feel like doing). I support all kinds of moms and dads and parents. Oh and, although I totally love that natural vibe and not harming the environment, I supplement my organic milk and fresh fruits and veggies with the occasional Twix, the frequent Oreo, and the daily Coke Zero. I’m opinionated, not easily offended, and a loudmouth in person and on the internet. I am what I am. Welcome.