This week my baby turned one. Her birthday coincides with the the New Year holiday; a time for fresh starts, moving forward, and reflection.
I find that I am always sentimental during the first anniversary of the days, hours, and minutes before any of my baby’s births. I think about what we were doing “at this time last year.” I try to imagine the impossibility of what it felt like not to have met the little person we have spent the last year loving. I think of my labor and when the contractions started. Were we at the hospital? Were we at home still? Was Nana here yet to take care of the boys? I have been blessed with straightforward, lovely births, so this reminiscing evokes a feeling of love and empowerment (I know that I am lucky on this front). These memories are something I treasure as a gift my children have given me. I never knew I could be so strong as during the births of my children. My last baby has just turned one and is moving out of babyhood. She walks and climbs and is beginning to talk. As I say goodbye to the birth chapter of life, it is with bittersweet feelings. I hope to carry with me the strength I experienced in birth into my future adventures.
2012 draws to a close and I am struck by how different life feels this year versus last. Last year we were in love with our newborn, wondering how we would get through the first days, let alone the year, as a family of five. I think about how we were closer with some friends and alternatively more distanced from some family. Poole Party of 5 did not exist. We didn’t know who our next president would be. What a difference a year makes… I grew up with a phrase that my mom would tell me in times of discord. She would say, “Make friends with change.” Of course there is not a much truer sentiment, yet it drove me crazy. Nothing stays the same. We know this in our heads, but I believe it is harder for our hearts to accept. I friend recently said, “Think back five years to what your life was…” Well, we had a 6-month old little boy that we loved deeply, but were still getting to know. We lived in a different house, in a different city. We didn’t know what our family would become, or who our little guy would be. One year is a blink. Five years is a deep breath in and out…
While I was in labor with Tatum last year, the song playing on the iPod when she was born was “One Day” by Matisyahu. It is such a powerful message for peace. I love the imagery of my baby entering the world with such a hopeful message. (I have linked to the video and copied the first verse lyrics below.)
sometimes I lay
under the moon
and thank God I’m breathing
then I pray
don’t take me soon
cause I am here for a reason
sometimes in my tears I drown
but I never let it get me down
so when negativity surrounds
I know some day it’ll all turn around
all my life I’ve been waiting for
I’ve been praying for
for the people to say
that we don’t wanna fight no more
there’ll be no more wars
and our children will play
one day (x6)
As much as things change, we do have elements that continue, unmarred by the date on the calendar. My wish for the future is peace and a time when “there’ll be no more wars / and our children will play”. I don’t know if this will happen in my lifetime, but maybe in our children’s lifetimes. I still wonder why I am here, but I know that one of my purposes was to be a mom. To love my children and my husband with all that I have. To give forgiveness when someone hurts me and to try not to do harm to others. I’m not big on New Year resolutions; every year they are the same – dental floss more and exercise more. But maybe a hope for peace is good too.