My baby boy turned one
today.
How can that possibly be true?
It was only about two
seconds ago that he was a tiny, sleepy creature who would snuggle into me for
hours.
And now I’m lucky if I get a
millisecond of a cuddle before he wriggles out of my arms to noisily crawl
away, slapping his hand loudly on the floor as he does, pissing off the
neighbour downstairs.
Ben took the children out so
that I could tidy the house before family came over for a little party.
But instead, the moment I
had the house to myself, I slumped into the sofa in my pyjamas and started
crying. Just a lip-quivering sob to start with, which soon escalated to a
shoulder-shaking nose-running wail, aided by a particularly moving story on
Steve Wright’s Sunday Love Songs.
I don’t know why the first
birthday feels so emotional.
Maybe because it is the
beginning of the end.
The beginning of your child
becoming a little person in their own right instead of totally dependent on
you.
And the end of them being
your baby.
It is also the only day where
a mother knows EXACTLY what she was doing on that day the previous year. Often
on a minute-by-minute, contraction-by-contraction basis.
When we’d sat down for
breakfast, I’d thought, a year ago right now I would have seen my son for the
very first time. The midwife would have just caught him as I gave the final
mother-of-all pushes, and passed him through my legs for me to clap eyes his
purple, wrinkled body.
As I sat on the sofa
sobbing, 365 days previously we would have been in the birthing room, our son
asleep in a cot and me eating toast and downing tea as if it were my last
supper.
There’s never the time to
think about how amazing it is that a person has been created and immediately
changed your life, because you just get on with it.
Everyday.
But a first birthday is a
moment to reflect.
To realise that you’ve done
it.
You’ve survived a whole
year; the titchy baby you created is now a laughing, babbling, mud-eating,
clapping, pasta-throwing, bath-water-slapping, loving child.
And they will no longer be
described as a baby.
You no longer have a baby.
And that knowledge makes you
excited about the future, but also grieve a little bit for the past.
I let myself indulge in
remembering his birth day while snotty crying for a moment longer before realised
that guests were arriving in less than an hour for a barbeque that was still to
be bought from Argos and I was sat on the sofa in my pyjamas.
So I blew my nose, took a
deep breath, and got ready to start the next year of my son's life with him.
Where has the past year gone!!! Happy birthday one year old! Can so relate to the remembering minute by minute what happened. It was weirder when my son turned 6 as it was the first time the actual days of the week matched up with the day he was born too so i was telling him what i was going through being in labour from monday through to thursday! Enjoy this coming year and treasure every moment - i'm sure you will. xxx
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