Last Firsts

This week, I celebrated my last baby’s first birthday. G is officially a one-year-old. No more telling people I have a baby at home.

I could cry at the drop of a hat thinking about how fast my kids are growing. The days are long but the years are short. It’s truly unfair, especially when they’re little and just so freakin’ adorable. I started writing this post on March 4th, so clearly I’ve been dreading this birthday milestone for a while.

Dreading and looking forward to it at the same time. Here I go again, a complex web of contradictions.

I am tearfully rocking my baby, I mean, my toddler to sleep because she will be ever so slightly heavier and older and more independent tomorrow. At the same time, I’m thinking about all the things I want to do with my life after she leaves the nest 17 years from now. I simultaneously want my freedom back and my children to stay in their preschool years forever.

I can’t believe a year ago we were bringing her home from the hospital. I can’t believe today, she’s walking and climbing and communicating. She’s drinking from a straw and prefers solids. I can’t believe that this is the year she’ll learn to talk, to run, and maybe move out of her crib. Tell me how the first year of a baby’s life makes sense. Seeing her grow from gremlin to a little girl in just 12 months is mind-boggling.

What’s also weird is that I don’t even remember Bub at this age. I had to look at photos and videos to remind myself, which made me terrified that I might someday soon forget what G is like at this very moment. Oh please let me remember her chubby cheeks, the sound of her babbling, her toddling to me with arms open wide. A big toothy grin on her face. I want to remember all of it.

Now I’m crying again.

Here We Are

Here we are, at the end of 2022. I think back on the things I wanted to accomplish this year and realize I hit 75% of what I wanted. There are things I never checked off my to-do list and worry if I ever will. But, I’m learning to trust in the timing of the Universe and let go of my own timeline. Sometimes when I look back on my life, I realize the timing worked out better than I had planned.

The milestones from this year were big:

• Trips with the kid to California, Florida, Ohio, North Carolina, Ontario, Quebec, Vermont, New York, and Massachusetts.

• Trip on my own to California.

• Bub learning 5,000 more words (or so it seems).

• Two ACL surgeries for Buddha.

• Traded in our Prius for a minivan.

• Steve upped his fitness game.

• I made strides with my anxiety.

• I finally lost the baby weight and felt like myself again.

• I submitted two works for copyright.

• We both got promoted at work.

• We got pregnant with baby #2.

And yet, the day-to-day feels the same. We get up, try to balance work/Bub/Buddha/ourselves, and all of a sudden, it’s bedtime. We ask the same questions every day: What do you want to eat? When do you have meetings? When are you working out? Who’s putting him down for a nap? Who’s putting him down for bed?

This year, we came face-to-face with what we want for our lives and for our family. We debated where we saw ourselves living, who we want our community to be, whether we were making choices based on fear or fun. These questions have led me to what I want to prioritize in the new year: Who am I? In other words, what is my authentic self if I strip away the anxiety, depression, and insecurity? What do I really want to do if I let go of my fears?

Right now, I don’t know how to make decisions not based on fear. Every decision I’ve made in life has been based on my fears. Fear of being unpopular, overweight, financially unstable, a bad mom. I’m realizing now that making decisions based on fear makes me a coward, a pessimist, a sell-out. When I know deep down that I’m a dreamer, an idealist, an original. 2023 is about finding who I am, amidst the chaos of being a working parent trying to expand her family. Bring it on.