So this is it. The final night that I'm the mother of a baby. Tomorrow she's a toddler...and I don't know...there's a palpable excitement in the air. Not just because of the shindig we are throwing, the decorations that will be hung, the tacos eaten, the sangria slurped, and the sidewalk chalk drawings that will spread across our driveway...but something deeper. My heart feels that my little girl is growing evermore into the person that I will one day know as a woman, maybe a mother, but forever my daughter.
I can't claim to know what I'm doing. There was always a lot of pressure on my becoming a mother. Self-inflicted pressure. I was the one that would know how to do it. I had babysit hundreds of kids. Worked as a full-time nanny to several. Lived with babies. My mother had run a daycare. I was to be a "natural" mom.
But this year has been filled with moments of utter confusion. In the midst of sheer euphoria at the bond. The willingness to wake time and time again without question and hold a child to my breast, sweep the wisps from her forehead, whisper "Ich liebe dich" as I gently glide my thumb between her eyebrows. It has been a year of such beautiful moments. And albeit magical, the night she was born, it is the daily growth, the sweet changes in expression and physicality and personality that grow my love for her even more.
I don't want to forget that right now she mumbles "lurdy, lurdy, lurdy" and calls both Daniel and me "dada." She watches us snap our fingers and rubs her fingers together in imitation. She spins on her butt by pushing one foot. She is obsessed with "Goodnight Gorilla." When you show her how to smell flowers, she opens her mouth on them. When you ask her for a kiss, she opens her mouth and leans forward. She wants Maxwell to be her friend and hang out in her crib. She rolls around on the floor with her blanket making cuddle sounds. She stuffs blueberries and mango and cheerios in her mouth with wild abandon. She loves digging for her bellybutton...and mine. She hugs her bear. She stands alone in the middle of the floor and claps for herself before taking a few steps. She smiles often at strangers. She is mesmerized by planes and buzzing electric lines. She circles her feet madly when hearing music she loves. She giggles when I gnaw on her fingers or pretend that she has stinky feet. She can sign "more, food, and all done."
How can it pass so quickly? One year. No more weekly blocks. Sure there will be photos taken and video shot...but tomorrow, with a smile and a tear, I will spell out one year. We will celebrate with family and friends and loved ones here in spirit. She will indulge or merely play with a slice of my mom's scrumptious berry trifle.
And my first-born, my baby, my girl will turn the page on her first year of life.
At this time last year, I was surely asleep. It had been an evening of relaxation. Daniel and I had agreed to stop vexing on the late status of our baby. Let go. Not talk about when it would happen, when it would start, how will we know...just let it be. We had held hands and taken a walk down Massachusetts Avenue...up a cracked sidwalk. A pitch that caused my waddling feet to take a pause before continuing. Just a few blocks of walking...then we slipped into bed. Deep breaths and relaxation.
Then, in the dark hours of morning I awoke to the first wave. I stayed motionless in bed. Looking only at my cell phone clock for the time between each rush. After the first 4-5, I went to the guest room. I set out the yoga mat. I stretched and went through slow asanas...breathing...relaxing...affirming that I was going to be a mother soon. There were two beautiful hours in which I spent time with just myself and my unborn child...before anyone else knew that I was in labor. Sharing our morning together for the last time within the same body.
Oh, little Nuglett, Lulu Bell, Noodle, Budda Bee-Bee - you encourage me to be my best self. A woman of more patience, kindness, wit, intelligence, humor, generosity, and honesty. You have helped me strive to find the warmer side of people...of myself. You have consistently amazed me with your strong will, vibrant expression, and sincere observation of your world. I endeavor to create the most incredible childhood for you. A childhood filled with memories that always bring you back to a place of absolute love and safety and encouragement.
I'm a sap tonight. I can't help it. I could type for hours and hours. Wishing to capture just the right sentiment to commemorate her big day...but alas, my eyes are closing. A big day lies ahead. Sleep is needed.
More to come from the big day soon...
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