So I had every intention to share about our zero waste kitchen this week, but then it hit me, I am two weeks away from having a one-year-old. I was just on the phone with my mom talking about various parent-guilt issues I have been feeling, all while holding my daughter, knowing full well I am doing just fine and should really learn how to mute those annoying thoughts. I know many parents experience this kind of guilt, and my feelings are valid, but I also know she is loved and cared for every single day, even when I am not the one directly giving her that attention. Anyway, while talking with my mom my unnecessary guilt and her upcoming birthday party, I acknowledged that I am doing a good job, that even though my days are busy I am doing my best to take in all my moments with her, to which my mom, in her sweet mom voice, agreed and assured me I was and am. My eyes filled with tears and I asked her how she did this over and over again with my sisters and I. The bittersweetness of raising a child is overwhelming, but the most beautiful experience I have ever had. An experience I am not at all taking for granted.
For over a year now, I have been trying to live a more intentional life, while zero waste and learning to say no has been a significant part of my process, slowing down to take in all, or most of, her moments has definitely been the most complicated. Between wanting to keep a clean and safe house for her, to making sure laundry and diapers are washed and dried, food is prepped, sitters are scheduled, marriage is maintained, art is made, etc., the list goes on, I remind myself daily to stop and smell her sweet baby toes, kiss her little nose, look into her brown eyes, sweep her curls across her forehead, and tell her over and over and over again how deeply I love her. Our life has become the most tiresome, purposeful, beautiful, simplified, and loving version it has ever been. To think that in two short weeks we will have a one-year-old is simply unreal. I still feel like she is three or four months old, that we are still in the beginning stages of life with her, and in the grand scheme of things we are, but the new-born, infant stage is gone. She has grown into a curious child who loves books, avocados, and cats. Who is learning to be potty-trained, who crawls...fast, and is weaning herself, thankfully slowly, off of breastfeeding.
These feelings make me feel incredibly vulnerable, motherhood has softened me. I just laid her down to sleep for the night, but not before nursing her while crying softly into her sweet baby hair. She has changed me so much that it is hard to explain to others just how different I am as a person, how deeply my heart aches for her, and how I often physically yearn for her to be near me. I have never experienced a love so pure, one that can bring me to tears in a matter of a second. God. It hurts to love this much. I think about the night I birthed her often, how thick the love was in the room between my husband and I and our families. How quickly our life changed from the 28th to the 29th of that April is still unfathomable to me. I thought I loved her then, that my heart couldn't feel anything deeper for her in that moment of her infancy, and then month by month my heart made room. Today we had an art exhibition at our home, and from a distance, in her dad's arms, she spotted me from across the room and smiled, laughed, and reached for me. Confirmation that she also loves me deeply, but it's a beautiful thing to know she will never quite understand the love I have for her.
