He's born today and before you know it - he'll be starting college.
Time flies, don't blink.
I've heard it all, everyday since the day you were born. Those who shared these words of wisdom couldn't have been more right and more wrong at the same time, if they were the last true words uttered on earth.
I have a 'line a day' book, good for 5 years, which I have written (or at least had the intention of writing in) every day for the past 364 days. Some weeks I'm diligent, writing everyday once you go to sleep. Other times, I skip a week at a time, and have to go back through the catalogs of firsts in my head to remember what milestone you crossed 6 days ago, or what new food you tried, a special experience we shared. Nothing has made me more present of my current moment nor humanized me more than having documented a blip of each day of your life for the past year. I never document your day in the morning, because why would I? The day has only begun and there's so much more day to share! But today, on this last day of your first year, I thought it necessary to remember this morning and what it was like to roll out of bed and walk into your room. To see you standing in your crib and grinning waiting for *usually just* dad to come get you to bring to me for our morning cuddle and feeding session. Now, on this Monday morning as I sit down to write my one line, as tradition would have it, I'm 3 days behind in the daily recount of your life. As I backtrack to three days prior, I am a mess of emotion and tears and a flurry of love surrounds my heart, my hands, the pen I hold.
I start with Friday where I write about meeting a new baby, baby Jack. This was my first time back in the new born wing of West Hills hospital where you were born; since the day we left the hospital to bring you home! From walking into the hospital to arriving back home in time to tuck you into bed for the night, Friday's entire experience was something special. The last time I walked into this entrance, I was in full blown labor. Your little body was forcing my uterus to contract in an effort to get you out. I was in pain. My eyes had been shut tight in an effort to push the pain deep down into my body all day long. I had hardly opened them at all except for one moment when as I was forced to in order to walk into the hospital by myself while your dad parked the car. I recall one queen of observation looking at me as I was trying to make it to the automatic sliding doors, doubled over in full stage 1 labor and saying, "uh oh! It's that time..." This time around I observe everything from the security guard at check in, to the slow approaching elevator doors. The smell, knocking on the hospital room door, the excitement of meeting a new life, it is all so familiar. The whole experience gives me chills and tears and floods me with sweet memories. I am talking and congratulating, but I'm thinking of you and your grand entrance in this world every second I'm there.
Then came Saturday. For this day, I write about the morning snuggles that has become a weekend tradition. To quote my self in the book, I write, "Saturday morning snuggles in bed with your dad, has to be one of my favorite things ever..." And I stand by that. These snuggles are a chance to celebrate the laziness a weekend morning can bring. For twenty minutes or so, there is no obligation except to love my beautiful family, even if just for a few minutes. On this last Saturday morning of your first year, I feed you like usual. And as per the usual, when you are finished, still on your belly, you pick your head up and give your daddy a goofy grin then say something in a gibberish which only a devoted parent of their own child would understand. A phrase in sweet combination of, 'I love you mom and dad,' &, 'boy I love when the 3 of us lounge in bed.' Then you do something which is brand new and I can't get enough of it. You climb up through the pillows and bed clothes, pull yourself up on our headrest to standing, then casually look over your shoulder only to dramatically tumble on top of dad and I landing in a see of cotton and down. You roll onto your back and giggle and squeal loudly with delight only to repeat all of this 6 or 7 times. Watching you grow into an adventurous little boy who lives for laughing and entertaining yourself is pure magic in it's finest form. I am so lucky to be your mom.
Sunday's entry follows. An entry wonderfully exemplifying what a social little being you have become in this first year of life. We had two birthday parties to attend. One at a play gym for 3 year old Atticus, and one for your birthday twin and best buddy EJ. Cranky all the way to the first birthday party, after a long drive, all frustration melts away as I place you inside a pit of foam blocks. You immediately start socializing and hand a peer a ball saying, 'ball!' He doesn't really get it, but you don't mind. We move onto EJ's birthday party where we are greeted by many of the friends our whole family has made in the last year. We pose you for pictures with 2 of your buddies which we have done since you all met. Today you sit up on a bench on your own and know to look at the camera. This is a drastic change from when we began posing you for photos when you were all just 3 months old, lying on a blanket on the floor. Next year - we'll be lucky if we can get you to all stand there and look at the camera simultaneously - but I'm not rushing that so I'm not even going to think about it!
As I sit in my office and write, straight in front of me your monitor sits. You are half on your side and half on your belly sucking your thumb and sleeping, holding tight onto your closest confidant, your blanket; which began as your swaddle 12 months ago. You are starting to stir, waking any moment for sure. To my right is a pile of fun which we have been collecting for weeks now in preparation for your birthday party. There are bubbles and plastic balls, dessert plates, ketchup & mustard bottles, a case of beer. As I finally catch up in my Mom's One Line a Day a 5 year memory book, and prepare to write today's entry, I turn the page to May 23rd, and without thought, tears fill my eyes. Today's entry will be written on the left, but the right side of the page has us starting all over again, one line down, the start of a new year. Tomorrow is your birthday. The entry I wrote a year ago tomorrow has me an emotional mess, "The day my whole world changed. Oliver James Lewis was born & my life was complete...WE DID IT!"
They say when you meet your baby for the first time you instantly fall in love. A love so deep, you can't fathom it before it happens. And that's true. What they don't tell you is that in the coming year, and I know eventually years to come, that love grows exponentially to the point of disbelief. I said it the day I introduced you to the world on social media, "I love him so much, I need a new word aside from love..." They say the time flies, and they're right about that. I don't know how a year has passed since that ever so fateful day. What they're wrong about is how quickly the time goes. A year ago I was a clueless mess. I was told it gets easier at 4 months and getting through those first 4m months seemed to have taken a lifetime in itself! I'm contradicting myself, I get that, but as you're now leaning out of your crib and calling, "Mama!!" it truly feels like it was another life in which I held your helpless, unknowing, scared & innocent little body in my arms and tried to learn how to feed you, how to care for you, how to be your mom. Today you say words, you walk (with assistance), you laugh, you share your needs. You have scars, likes, dislikes. You know who your mom and dad, grandma and grandpa, and aunties are. You've had more firsts than I can count and now we're off to celebrate this last day of your first year.
Thank you for choosing me to be your mom. I am a changed woman full of patience, protection, so much more than that and there isn't anything in the world I wouldn't do for you.
..and her life was Simply wonderful
I love you. All my very best,
Mom
