They told me it would happen, as I cuddled my freshly born son. They told me that time would start to crash and swirl around me like the disappearing waves of the ocean. That a year would pass like a week. Like a freshly made mother, I ignored their winking, smiling words. And here we stand on the brink of toddlerhood, and I realize that indeed, a year has passed.
One year ago today I was enjoying my freedom from my desk job, and was happily picking blueberries with mom and Shelley. Our house looked hopelessly removed from anything resembling the cozy home I had imagined during our first walk through, and I was praying that the baby would wait to be born until the drywall was up, the painting was done, and we could think about packing. I was 12 days away from my doctor's due date and trying to ignore old wives' tales about full moons bringing on labor.
I was exactly 3 weeks away from meeting Aaron.
Which means, my little boy will be turning one in three weeks. We'll probably have a small gathering (that he won't remember) and we might let him have something resembling cake to play in for the photos. And then, I fear, this cycle will repeat itself, and another year will pass as swiftly as this first with our child.
I've learned so much this year - thought about things I hadn't given a moment's time before - things like shots and feeding and elimination habits and sleeping and schedules and teaching obedience. I'm sure that the experienced moms out there just smile with that smile that says, "Just wait, honey" all the while thinking that I've only begun to learn, to grow, to be a mom.
Today, I pray hard. I pray for my child, that He will grow strong in every way, but most importantly that he will be born spiritually, and grow in grace. I pray for us as we practice parenting. And I pray that God will write these everyday moments in my heart, that I may treasure the gifts He gives.