12th Month

Close your eyes. Imagine it's July 14th...

Dear Sarah-

You've now been out in the world for an entire year.




I still clearly remember the day that you were born. It was the most remarkable day of my life. I don't mean remarkable in a hurray, happy, party, I can't wait to do that again kind of way. I mean remarkable in a life altering, I can't believe I just survived that kind of way.




Immediately after you were born, Dr. Wong held you up for me to take you from her. Instead of grabbing you and cradling you with deeply seeded maternal instinct. I froze. I was terrified. I didn't want to take you. What did I know about babies? Who were you? What if you didn't like me? What if I didn't like you? I was completely intimidated by you. After hesitating a bit, I finally took you in my arms - I didn't want the nurses to know what I was thinking. I had to be the mom in the room. All eyes were on me.




The first thing I did was take a good look at your face. I wanted to know who you were. What did you like? Were you serious? Funny? The answers had to be in your face.




In the months that followed, sleep deprivation became my monster. I was certain that I would never sleep more than two continuous hours again. One morning, I took you to bed with me. I was numb. I had to get some sleep - any amount of sleep. I placed you on my chest. Every time I reclined back to rest, you cried. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep through the screaming anyway. It wasn't working. I was never going to sleep again. I broke down and cried with you.




Of course, I slept again. I got to run again and play with Sancho and Lola again. Life got back on track. A different track, but a track nonetheless.




Days are now filled with blankets being drug across the house, unsteady steps taken along furniture and little hands clinging to my legs. Messes are made. Messes are cleaned up. Silly songs are sung. Heads are bumped. I dance in circles with my arms thrown up in the air.




I'm no longer afraid of you. I'm afraid of the plainness of a life without you.




Love,
your mama