It is hard to believe that baby Kye is now already one year old. For something a little different from the typical trip report and Kye update, I thought I'd take a minute to reflect on the year.
People don't often talk about how hard a transition it can be to become a parent. The societal norm is to 'just deal with it' quietly and with a smile on your face. I suppose people think that you should acknowledge that you are blessed to have a child, a healthy one as well, and not complain about what is just standard parenthood. I'm a believer in honesty, though, so here's my version of becoming a mother.
You can't prepare for becoming a parent. You just can't. You can read some books, talk to friends who are already parents, and such. Nothing will prepare you, truly, for what is to come. At least that was our experience, because reading is one thing and real life is something entirely different, but also because 'every baby is different' so most of our reading didn't apply to Kye. He prefers to do things his own way.
Kye is now like my right arm; I wouldn't know what to do without him, wouldn't feel complete or right. I love him immensely, more than I could've imagined loving someone. Again, that is not something you can prepare for, and it is both positive and negative, in a way. The intensity of love also brings along a sense of responsibility that can be overwhelming. I have struggled quite a bit with feeling inadequate as a parent, not knowing what to do and how to do it, but I have also accepted that this is quite normal, and that I should get accustomed to the feeling as it will probably be with me forever. You just do the best you can.
It has been a lot of fun watching him learn and grow. This week, he learned to clap. He'll stand in the middle of the room and start clapping, a huge smile on his face, so proud of himself. I can't help but smile...that is the type of joy you can't get from any other experience. And we have had a million of these moments that I wouldn't trade for anything. That said, I struggle with the dramatic change in our definition of 'fun'. I miss the fun I had before and wish I had more of it. I still bike, climb, ski, and hike, but it is no longer as free as it once was. There is an ever-present thought in my mind about meeting Kye's needs, whether with him or not. I miss the spontaneity and ease of the childless life. I miss my husband, as we are generally passing in the dark these days, with both of us working full-time and not using daycare. I desperately miss sleep, precious sleep. And, I miss quiet time to myself, reading, writing, sewing, whatever.
As I type this, Kye is refusing his second nap (sigh). He is up in his crib, talking and chattering to his penguin lovey. I take him out and bring him back downstairs to play, hoping he can make it through the evening without being a total crank. Now, he is chasing me around, giggling like a madman as I pretend to run away from his pursuit. Raising this little boy is nothing like anything I've ever done. It is beautiful, hard, sad, scary, fulfilling, boring, ridiculous, and funny.
I remember asking a friend with kids, "Is it worth it?" She replied, "Most definitely". I would have a different answer if someone asked me. You cannot measure parenthood in a 'yes-no', binary way. It is not that simple. I actually don't have the language for the experience, so I guess I'll put it this way: I miss my old life, but I would never go back, even if I could. I know some of the things I miss will return at some point. And I know I will miss this day, this time period, so I am working on being present in this moment. I will look back at pictures with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia for the little baby that laughed hysterically at daddy blowing raspberries on his stomach, made motor noises constantly and was obsessed with tires, stared at the canopy of trees above with a look of wonder, and that fell asleep in my arms so sweetly.
So I am here, now, smiling at the joyful moments, crying at the frustrating ones, and allowing all reactions in between.
