And then it happened. I am now the mother of a 1 year old. Not only that but a 3 year old as well. WHAT?? I no longer technically have a baby. I’m not sure how I feel about it, to be honest.
BQ was a feisty baby. Not a “bad” baby (hate that term) just colicky. Reaching that first year point felt like a total victory. We survived and better yet, SHE survived. We could possibly handle taking care of another human being. I think I also knew that we were going to have more children, so I didn’t really cling to BQ’s “babyhood.” I was READY for her to move on. This time, with Molé, it doesn’t feel the same.
We have no idea whether or not we will have more children, as if anyone ever does, and there is a big part of me that feels this is a time of lasts rather than firsts. Did that make sense? With BQ, everything was new and exciting and it was fine when it ended because I knew we’d do it again. This time, I’m not so sure. The first birthday means it’s the last first birthday. The first steps, mean there won’t be anymore first steps…and on and on and on. My heart feels a little bit achey. That strange twinge, a dull ache, a restlessness.
My sweet husband, oddly enough, is feeling the polar opposite. He is pretty much thrilled that we no longer have a baby in the house and is super excited about what this next stage will bring. In so many ways, I am right there with him. This glass of wine is definitely part celebratory beverage…
Ahh, any of you felt this way? Who knows, maybe it’s the frosting talking. I did have three cupcakes.
Happy birthday, Molé. I love being your mommy.