When your baby turns 1

When your baby turns 1, it's like it all hits you: you have a kid. You're a parent. You've spent the last year of your life loving and taking care of another human. And not just any human; YOUR human. The one you carried and anticipated for 9 months, the one you dreamed and wondered about. The one you nicknamed and danced with and loved to a newfound degree of wow.

When your baby turns 1, it's hard to express the tumble of emotions that roll around your heart and mind. It's a milestone that feels so significant and inexplicable. A year. Really? Already? You're faced with the fact that somewhere between those soft, blurry newborn days and this 1st birthday you entered true, daily parenthood. You fumble less and find a rhythm of diaper changes, meals, bath times, bedtimes. Certain things used to be monumental and are now second nature. I don't think I felt the shift when it was happening, but I certainly see it now. My baby is no longer a baby. His amazing thick thigh rolls have thinned into healthy mini kid legs, prepped for walking (whenever the motivation kicks in). His quick funny movements have become more focused and experienced as he crawls at full speed, pulls himself up onto the couch, feeds himself crates of blueberries and plays with his favorite toys again and again. His gurgles and spit-bubbles have turned into constant chatter. He is this mobile, talkative, funny little person. And I'm left wondering where in the world my newborn has gone.

When your baby turns 1, you suddenly realize that this insanely fast-paced year is an indication of how quickly life will be going by from here on out. I think I've been in denial for a while that I'm no longer a "new mom"...that I no longer have a newborn. Every month gone by has taken me by surprise. When the waitress asked me how old my son was today, I choked on the word "one". I am so unprepared to have a 1-year-old. Measuring each hour, day, week, month by the growth of a child brings new meaning to the brevity of life. This year has been the best of my life. As each day passed, it became harder (and now, impossible) to imagine and remember life without Will. I carry his heart in my heart, and he absolutely carries mine.

A year ago to this very moment, I was spending my very first hours with my gorgeous baby boy. Those moments are so vivid in my memory, I can hardly believe there's so much distance between those memories and where I currently sit. Time has beautifully shaped us into a family of 3. William is sleeping upstairs, his birthday coming to an end, and he's sweetly unaware that it was different than any other day. When your baby turns 1, you celebrate the amazing life you've gained (and cry a little) and look forward to many more years of unbelievable change, growth, love, delight. Happy 1st birthday, my beautiful darling William Boyer. We are so glad to be yours. 

william boyer

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Facebook Friends Day - have I missed anything else?

After months of not blogging, I find myself revisiting this little space to say I have a baby! My little boy is already 1 month old (as of yesterday), and it has been the most wonderful month of my entire life. I imagine it has been pretty grand for him as well - he has so much more room to wiggle and sing and squirm!

William Boyer came into the world at 8:08pm on January 6th, 2016. He was 9 lb, 5 oz and 21 inches long. He is also absolutely perfect, but that's basically the New Mom National Anthem so I'd like to go into a little more detail... partly for you, but mostly for me. This month has gone by in a blur of midnight conversations, earnest baby tears, bleary parent eyes, late morning naps, Friends marathons, couch cuddles, hummed lullabies, fresh baby clothes, and worn-out pajamas. I already feel like so many of the details have slipped out of my tired mind, and it's a true fear of mine that I won't be able to fully document and recall these priceless days of our newly baked parenthood. So here are a few things that I want to remember...

We call him bubba gump, gruntosaurus, sweet boy, will boy, and terry (short for pterodactyl) when he's particularly shrill. I love how strong he is. As soon as they laid him on my chest in the hospital, he lifted his head and looked around. No one has informed him that he's a newborn and is supposed to be fragile.

I adore the way he breathes. It's often stuttered and loud and deep (with his mouth hanging open), and it's always warm and sweet and friendly. I listen for it in the dark of night, and treasure the warmth of it against my neck. Remember when you were young, and you used to wonder what clouds taste like? (Was that just me?) That's what his breath smells like. It's cloud fluff a la mode. One of my more awkward hobbies now is resting my face against his and smelling his breath until he gets mad at me. I now understand why parents are so embarrassing.

I love the way he shakily head butts me when he tries to look me in the eyes. I love how his eyes then go cross as he works so hard to focus on mine, and the endless expressions he manages to create. They never, ever get old. He pushes his tongue against his bottom lip, he purses his lips, he scrunches his face and raises his eyebrows and stretches his arms and poses like superman and tries his best to look like the grumpiest old man in the land.

He is so active, so playful, so alive. He wiggles and kicks and grunts like a pro grunter, which isn't a thing. Until now. He grunts when he's happy, when he's angry, when he's (supposed to be) sleeping. Whenever I wake up in a pure and quite irrational panic, which is more often than I'd like to admit, there's no greater sound than his little drowsy grunts.

I love his lips and how he moves his mouth. I love his little spit bubbles and the way his clean, fluffy blonde hair smells after a bath. I love how he'll go perfectly still and just stare silently in one direction as if he's just discovered something that requires a lot of focused thought. The best thing in the world is the thoughtful way he clutches at my shoulder or my arm or my clothes when he's sleepy or nursing. His little fingers opening and closing in a gentle repetition, just to remind me he's still there. His fingers and toes are constantly in motion. The little dimples on his hands make me want to cry.

His eyes are so deep and beautiful, that stunning blue-grey slate. (Will they darken to brown like mine, or lighten to blue like his dad's?). Sometimes I almost feel like he is listening to me. He seems to think such deep thoughts... and then he'll squirm and fart and squeal and I'll realize he's only 4 weeks old, and his world is such a mystery to me. I constantly wonder what his view must be like. Is everything blurry? Does he see me when I hold him close and kiss his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips? When he smiles those sneaky smirks in the middle of nothing in particular, does he know he's smiling at me?

I find myself being washed from head to toe in those surprising moments of OH HEAVENS I love him so much, I may drown in the great sticky mess of it. I can hardly stand it. I cry when I think too much about his tiny footprints or the smell of his first shampoo. I never want to graduate from this land of new motherhood, with its many graces and firsts and cuddles and homemade lattes. I cry when I think about this time of life going too quickly and ending before I'm ready for it to. He won't remember these days, but I... well, I will long for them and dream of them and never, ever forget them. I will carry them with me for the rest of my days in the happiest pocket of my heart.