We did it!
Mr. Thrasher and I successfully made it through our first year of parenthood. We’ve come a long way from those first days as new parents where we couldn’t tell who was crying more – us or Emma. But baby is not only alive and kicking, she also walks, feeds herself, climbs up on the couch and out of her car seat, sings, dances and calls everyone and everything she is excited about Mama. Long gone are the nights where Paul and I wondered if we’ll ever sleep again and if we’d be able to leave the house without packing the entire nursery into her diaper bag.
Today, the day before Emma’s first birthday, I had a million Remember last year at this time? moments. I know everyone tells you they grow up so fast but you have no idea what that means until you find yourself baking your baby’s first birthday cake. So here I am sitting at my desk, cake cooling down in the kitchen, and I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.
Cry because I often long for the days where she was lying still during diaper changes, where she was tiny enough to be rocked on my lap, where I could get a bit of snuggle time in while she was sleeping next to me in our bed, where she didn’t squirm while I was holding her, where she was cozily nursing and where the biggest adventure for her was to lie on her blanket and play with her rattle. Cry because with her mobility, the feared i-word has manifested itself at Thrasher Home: independence. Followed closely by the t-word that’s peaking around the corner: toddler.
But then I can’t help but laugh because she cracks me up when she babbles all day, climbs into the cabinets to throw out everything she can find in there, when she grabs a pillow from the couch to step on it, then pulls herself up and onto the couch so she can reach the ornaments on the Christmas tree.
Laugh because I remember how I read the books, browsed the blogs and asked the experts as I frantically tried to figure out how to get her to sleep (read all about our sleep training here and here and here and here), cure her from a cold, breastfeed her for as long as possible, and make sure that her poop had the right color (yes, I googled it at least once).
Laugh because this tiny, helpless little newborn has grown into an incredibly smart and funny little girl. Her cheeky smile makes me smile. No matter what the world throws at me, a look at my little girl makes me forget the bad and the ugly and be grateful about the good
Happy 1. birthday, my dear daughter!