Happy 1st Birthday to my little man!

One year ago today at approximately 4:15pm, you made me a mama and I am forever grateful, thankful, and still amazed by the fact that your soul picked mine and dadas to share time and space with. These photos seem like memories that happened many moons ago, but they also feel like a fresh memory like it was just yesterday. For the last week or so I have had random flashes of memory float across my mind from your first moments on Earth, like how I must have spent at least 3 hours combined rubbing my lips over your impossibly silken hair (how is it possible that anything on Earth could feel that soft and magical) left to right, left to right like I was trying to read you through your head.

How I just stared at you and studied you for as long as I could instead of trying to sleep.

How you dove into this world with purpose (in true Independent Oskar fashion) and didn’t make us wait very long to meet you, despite the midwives and nurses telling me inductions can sometimes take days. You must have just been ready anyway. I was certainly uncomfortable enough.

How the midwife proclaimed that your chord was strong and healthy (right after dada cut it) despite having only two vessels and not three like normal and how that gave me such relief after you arrived. This was something I stressed about the whole pregnancy after finding out. Maybe that is what spiked my blood pressure at the end and lead to your induction (we will never know), but either way, you were ready.

How I felt the first time you revealed your dimples to me and how we got that on video by some magic. Video is in your birth story post.

How a nurse came into our recovery room at 3am after I was finally able to doze off a little and woke me up then asked me to wake up your dad (who was very confused and wasn’t able to form intelligible words yet as he must have been in a very deep state of sleep) and discuss circumcision with her (in full detail, pros and cons and the whole thing) despite already having made a choice (and having told them of said choice in advance) in the middle of the night after I had just done the most painful and exhausting thing of my life not even 12 hours before (could we not have done this the night before? Gotta love hospital protocol.)

How my first shower felt (amazing).

How powerful I felt when you entered the world.

How thankful I felt to birth the way I wanted to (no epidural and choice to move freely) despite a few bumps in the road and much anxiety.

How the “lactation consultants” and pediatricians tried to help me handle the fact that you were technically early term and freaked me out right away by strongly suggesting I needed to supplement our breastfeeding with formula because they were worried about your initial weight drop and all the questions I’ve had in my head since then about how I think that was the main culprit for my low supply and our 4 month long struggle.

How your dada did skin to skin for hours too as we had to stay an extra day at the hospital so they could monitor me. Seeing you on his chest covered in my favorite furry blanket on New Year’s Eve with a bright snowy day in the background and how magical that scene felt and still feels in my mind.

How incredibly swollen my hands and feet were from the fluids via the IV and the relief of having that dang thing finally taken out.

How I couldn’t stop staring at you in wonder (and still do).

Going further in time and reflecting on your first year —

How I have written a postpartum blog post and still haven’t had the guts to share it because it still feels so raw and scattered, unlike your birth story which somehow poured out of me.

How becoming a mom has changed me in ways that nothing in life before children can prepare you for.

How truly important sleep really is.

How watching you grow and develop so fast has been the most amazing, yet hardest thing as every day you are further away from your little baby self than the last.

How every now and then I’ll get little glimpses into your adult self and personality and remind myself to slow down and just be and observe you.

How I love you so very much it hurts.

For better or worse, kiddo, I wear my heart and my words on my sleeve and feel emotion on a level beyond what is probably normal. I hope someday you enjoy seeing and reading about the journey we took on your first year around the sun and beyond and don’t feel like I’ve shared too much with the world.

Here you are, month by month.