This week was a big milestone for my daughter. She turned one.
Since 2007, I have focused almost solely on babies. I have popped prenatal vitamins, fought insurance companies to get maternal coverage, renovated an old home to prepare for babies, and been pregnant three times.
I was pregnant in 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, and 2012.
I have been pregnant or nursing since July, 2008: almost five years now.
After giving birth to Jack in 2009, I remember the constant nagging question: "Will I give him a sibling?" After finally deciding "Yes!" and getting pregnant again when Jack was 14 months, we lost baby Charlie in 2010. We were pregnant with Cora six months later in 2011.
My days since 2008 have always been: "Baby, baby, baby!" Nursing, pumping, lullabies, cribs, first words, bloated pregnant belly, diapers.
But here's the difference this week. I look into the future differently now. I'm not wondering, "Am I going to get pregnant next month?" or, "I can't really plan next year, because I might be giving birth at that time." or, "Am I going to be too overwhelmed with a new baby to do that activity/gig/event next July?"
My baby has turned one. I gave away my maternity clothes to Bryn and Sisky. They aren't stored away in some "maybe next year" land in the attic.
The portal is mental. It has been a truly amazing journey to succumb to God's plans for my body, my family, and my children's births. It has been a lesson in gratitude, patience, and humility.
As Cora turns one, I cling to each baby day. It's such a bittersweet transition. She's starting to walk; she says "Achoo!" and grins when I sneeze. I'm aware that I will no longer have a baby, soon. I will no longer be planning to have a baby. Babies will be out of the picture. And I love babies. So I'm sad. But part of me is also grateful for the possibility to make plans. I've put in a good six years of not making plans.
Happy Birthday, C-Biscuit.
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