One Year

One year ago I was 26 hours into labor.

The smile on Joe's face is because I had just told a joke. At this point during labor, other than being totally exhausted and breathing through a contraction, I was excited and in a good mood because I could tell that the end was near.

Now, nestled into our beautiful new home surrounded by the peaceful silence of a sleeping boy, I'm thinking back on the craziest and best year of my life. In many ways, I feel indebted to Isaac for having taught me more in his first year than I could ever hope to teach him.

Like how to be patient. I have spent more time in a rocking chair, more time holding and more time singing lullabies than I ever thought was possible. But for him I have rocked and sung and hummed and bounced, and when I thought I couldn't do it any more, my selfishness melted and I pulled from somewhere deep inside my new patience well and continued to sing and rock. I made up a little song for him called "It Is Time To Go To Sleep". It has a simple, looping melody and just repeats the words "it is time to go to sleep". I came up with it when Isaac was a month or two old as a way to fight off an impending mental and emotional breakdown one night when he just would not go to sleep. I thought that perhaps incorporating the word "sleep" would help get my message across. The funny thing is, what started out as a desperate plea has morphed into a soothing lullaby - the soundtrack to our precious snuggle moments that grow shorter and more infrequent with each passing month. It is the song I still sing it to him as we snuggle before naps and bedtime and Joe has even caught me on a few occasions humming it myself as I drift off to sleep at night.

He taught me how much I could love, how my heart had more room to grow, to love this brand new being. The day after he was born, when the hospital nurse came and pricked his heel to draw blood, I would've wholeheartedly offered for them to cut off my leg if it would've kept him from that small bit of discomfort. I have so much more love to give than I ever thought possible; my heart's capacity is not fixed. Having him also made me love Joe more. There is a crawling, smiling, chatty, perfect example of our love for each other out in the world now. I am grateful to Joe for giving me Isaac and to Isaac for allowing me to see Joe in the role he was meant to play: Daddy. 

I have learned that Isaac is his own person. In the effort to identify the origin of his good looks, both my uncle and Joe's aunt have stated that Isaac bears a striking resemblance to their grandmothers. And who wouldn't want to claim a slice of this adorable pie as their own? We still love to point out when he does something that can be attributed to one of us. Like the way that he bites his lower lip when he's concentrating like Joe or how he rhythmically taps his hand against his side like I do; the fact that those idiosyncrasies are imbedded somewhere deep in our genetic code and are not simply stumbled upon randomly throughout the course of our lives has been a source of some wonderment. Joe and I both agree, however, that even though we love to point out when he makes an "Emmy Face" or is acting very "Joe-like", we get the greatest pleasure when he is being uniquely Isaac. He does it all the time and he has no idea how happy it makes us. All those faces, actions, and quirks blend both Joe and I, but ultimately make something completely new and unique and... beautiful.

To All of You: I originally wanted to blog so that friends and family, especially those out-of-towners (which is just about everyone now), could keep up with us. But as much as I did it for you, I did it for myself. I've always enjoyed writing, but have rarely found anything worthwhile to write about. I've started journals and blogs before, but my attention to them was sporadic and eventually they were forgotten. As it turns out, Isaac is an easy subject for me. When discussing my first born, words flow freely and with pride. I knew that I would probably fail at producing a baby book (true!) so I've made this his baby book. I've had so much fun going back and reading the monthly updates, seeing the milestones, how far we've come in the last year and how much our boy has grown.
There's nothing that makes me uniquely qualified to write. I am simply a mother with a computer, but I appreciate you being a part of our little family and for taking the time to read about and look at the photos of this precious boy, this miraculous life that we cherish so much.

To Joe: We made it! This year was as hard harder than we expected. Thank you for being by my side through the good (Isaac's firsts), the bad (Isaac not sleeping...ever), and the ugly (postpartum hormonal rage). At the risk of being repetitive, Isaac is lucky to have you as his dad, and I am blessed to be your wife.

To Isaac Ambrose: Happy 1st Birthday, son. Thank you for making me smile every day for the past year. It will be my privilege to bake you many, many, many more birthday cakes until another worthy woman takes over the job.