B.A.B.E. Week 52: Elle is 1!

When Wilson and I quit our jobs and travelled the world, I wrote a blog post about what we had learned after 100 days of travel.   It was a riff off of a section of the book Infinite Jest by one of gen X's greatest writers, DFW.  

I am going to use that same riff to write about this past year of B.A.B.E.dom.

So what have I learned in Elle’s first year?

Well...

If you ever have the great fortune of bringing a new human life into your world, you will acquire new, old, and purposely forgotten facts in that first year.  You will find that 365 days feels like a long time but it is short enough to have a laughing climbing 1 year old in front of you where a week-old newborn once slept.  

The year is short enough that you will realize that the 4-month sleep regression didn’t end until 5 months later and your darling was still sleeping in your bed at 9 months.  You will learn the centrality of the human body (its intake, sleep, excretions) and yet will forget the intensity of your own body’s abuse from bearing and birthing another human being.  That your body and needs are distant and often irrelevant.  That her tears, her laughter, her smiles are so much more than you ever imagined.

You will learn that the harsh thumping of your heart from African safaris is nothing compared to your heart’s thump of contentment as she nestles into your arms.  That, no matter what size she is, she fits like the last puzzle piece into the crook of your arm, along your torso, or seated laughing on your lap.

You will learn how little control there actually is.  That in the beginning she has to get her needs met without the ability to move or talk.   The she has  no autonomy with which to resolve her problems.  A hard role.  So as hard as it is for you to get your tasks done (or even sneak off to pee in the toilet),  at least you could grab that extension cord, wrap it tightly around your neck and chew on its electrical prongs to your heart’s content while she must deal with the frustration of the best “toys” being quickly put out of reach.

That you are lucky (or unlucky) to be dealt your particular life circumstances.   That your baby’s cries from momentary hunger or discomfort (from not wanting to close those drowsy eyes in the crib) pierce your soul and you can’t imagine how it would be to not answer that hunger with good food, or that fatigue with a safe environment.   That you are lucky for every day you don’t live in a war zone, for every kindness bestowed upon you, and every day she doesn’t throw up or cough or feel ill.

That your mind isn’t the same as it was before you became a parent. Emotions are much more potent and previously unrespected fear looms.  That you are afraid of jolting boats, cold viruses and have no tolerance for risk-taking situations at night.   That you share a connection with other parents experiencing the intensity, the fear, and the happiness.  And that happiness makes sleep deprivation laughable. 

That exploring, career, and exercise doesn’t end as a parent.  That she searches for meaning from us;  she wants what is valuable to us.  That you can be born on 5/5/2015 in Nashville, Tennessee and by 5/5/2016 travel to Utah, Las Vegas, Jamaica, Maine, Washington DC, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Panama, Cayman Islands, Bahamas islands (New Providence, Harbor Island,  Long Island, Eleuthera, Exumas, Bimini, Rose, Paradise, and Blue Lagoon), England, Switzerland, and France.  

That in order to exercise and lean into your career, you will threaten with bodily harm anyone who talks or walks too loudly and stirs your peaceful babe from her slumber.

That “sillies” and “happies” abound.  That she will giggle when she wakes, when you smile, when the world is just around her.  And that when the world is around, you obtain celebrity status because so many people notice her, talk to her, and want to make goofy smiles at your attached babe.  

That  rolling on the bed can be pure bliss.  And that it is hard to leave the contentment of home.

 

You will also learn that poop is very interesting and edibility is a shifting concept: peas, sand, or ice cream.   That your baby's refusal of spoon feeding vanishes as soon as she senses ice cream is around.  Or some days besides breastmilk, she may refuse to eat anything but sand and peas.  That breast milk poop smells much better than solid food poop.

That you will fall into the baby infrastructure trap--you need baby stuff everywhere and a lot of it.   That when you travel, your tiny human being will require much stuff... needing her own chair, spoons, cups, bed, to name a few.  And you will inevitably forget  some essential item while packing to travel or packing to come home.  It is all a war of attrition that you will lose but it won't matter because next week she may be too big for said spoon, onesie, chair, etc.

That it will pass too quickly.   Even as the rocking to sleep can feel interminable and the chasing of a diaperless bottom can shift a 30 second diaper changing session to 13 a minute diaper changing session, that all of this time wasted, isn't really a waste of time at all, it is the best of times.