Last week, if I opened the door to our den, Lily would motor over there to take a look at the box sitting beside my husband’s bookshelf. We bought the box on the weekend and I put it facing the wall, but she could still see the picture on the back—a picture of a little boy playing with the Little People Fun Sounds Farm inside the box. She’d point to the picture and smile at me. I’d tell her (and Sunshine) she had to wait for Sunday. For her first birthday.
Yesterday morning, when we finished breakfast, we pulled the box out of the den. Lily had been whining because I wouldn’t take her walking. Now she was all smiles as I put the barn on the floor beside her and pulled all the little animals out of their packaging.
It’s hard to believe that a year ago today, I had just gotten home from the hospital with my new Little Person. I remember Sunshine’s excitement, my own exhaustion, how tiny Lily was—but it all seems a bit foggy. Her first year has been busy. I’ve enjoyed watching the girls grow and change. While I kinda wished for a boy before Lily was born, now I’m glad she’s a girl; my daughters have something I never had—a sister.
Recently, a friend of mine emailed me about Lily’s upcoming birthday and asked how I felt about her birth now. She was a huge support to me in my stress over doctors and hospitals during my pregnancy. I’m still upset that maternity care there was what it was, and that I had to go through what I did to have a baby. In the end, though, the hospital was great—the nursing staff and the doctor we’d never met before respected my wishes for a natural birth and helped everything to go smoothly, even when things didn’t go perfectly.
On Thursday afternoon, we were waiting outside my husband’s office to meet him after work. Sunshine was marching around the flower planters and Lily, holding my fingers, did her best to follow. A woman asked me, with a smile, how old Lily was. When I responded, she said, “I have an eight-month-old at home and I can’t wait until he can do that.” I shot back, “I can’t wait until she can do it on her own!” The other mom laughed and acknowledged, “We always want the next stage.”
Sometimes, yes. But sometimes I look at my beautiful daughters, and at all the joy that comes with a three-year-old and a one-year-old, and tell myself I am the luckiest mom around.
Happy birthday, Lily.
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One Response
Thanks for stopping by my blog and leaving a comment. I too converted from the Lutheran faith to Catholicism. Funny thing is, so did my brother and my sister. All of us came to the decision independently of each other too, which is really amazing. My mom was Lutheran, and my grandfather was a church organist and choir director for thirty-some years. Our dad was Catholic and many of my great aunts were nuns, but we never stepped foot into a Catholic church as children. My Lutheran grandparents were not thrilled with their Catholic son-in-law!