I spent almost 30-years of my life being completely self-focused. My life revolved around the urges to find love, to find financial security, and to find a fulfilling career path. I was so tuned in to my own needs, wants, aches, pains, successes, and failures, that I often felt somewhat let down by life. No matter how good, or bad, my life became, I grew more dissatisfied as I continued into my middle and late twenties. I was by no means miserable, however, I did feel like something was missing.
Then, it happened. I endured 9 months of a difficult pregnancy, and 11-months-ago today, I gave birth to Evan. Having him in my life has been a profoundly beautiful experience, and without completely using up all of my material for what will no doubt be an epic FIRST BIRTHDAY post next month, let’s just say that being his mother has made me a happy and fulfilled woman.
All of that said, how in the world are we here, at 11 months? The heartache of seeing your baby transform from newborn to KID virtually overnight is incredible. I am so excited to see him grow, but I will be perfectly honest, there are parts of this experience that make me want to crawl in a hold and completely deny the fact that a whole year has slipped by. A whole year. I’ve done everything that I could to be a constant, involved, loving, obsessive-photo-taking presence in his life, but i still feel sad because those moments are gone forever.
Being a parent really makes you aware of your own mortality, and of the fact that we are all moving forward and growing older, and there isn’t a thing we can do about it but try to fully enjoy every fleeting second.