Sophie! You are one!
We made it!!
The other night your father and I sat in bed with
the lap top, looking over our genealogy and filling in information and photos
to our family tree. And there your name was: Sophie Jean Womack, like
it belonged from the beginning and made perfect sense. I felt content in
that moment, to know what wasn't there before is now a fixture. Seeing
your name and your brother and sister's, so neat and clean, branching off
of your father's and mine, made me want to just add a couple more to the list, so
we could have this robust little collection of people. What a feeling of
accomplishment. And because all you children were sweetly sleeping in
your own rooms, your bellies rising and falling with the even breath of deep
sleep, the soft glow of night lights and shadows of stuffed bears and figurines
drawing shapes on the walls, well in that moment it all felt possible, I mean
why not?!
But there are novels that aren't told in these
organized family trees, details of joys and anguish that are missing behind
each name. I saw three of my mother's siblings that have passed away and
found myself staring at the starkness of their names and dates of birth and death in slight disbelief that that was the only information included.
So Sophie, my point is this, we are so glad that
you are part of us, that we could add your name to ours, but this first year of
your life has had its …. details. When I was pregnant with you I remember saying, Well this
baby will just have to be mellow and learn to go with the flow, because whew!
its going to be busy!!
What an idiot. Pregnant delusions and wishful
thinking. Babies don't go with the flow, they create the flow. And
then they destroy the flow for sport.
Your father says that you feel you were destined to
be born in a royal family, the next Middleton baby to be exact, but somehow
things got switched, and you were born into our family instead. And so
you are jilted. And pissed. At first I just laughed when he said
this, but over time I have become a believer. I really think you should
have been royalty.
This year has left me exhausted and hagged (a new
word I made up when I was crying to your father about how I felt, I think its a cross
between haggard and ragged??)
On the bright side, this year has given me a new respect for yoga. I used to always get frustrated
with yoga. Like for example during shavasana I would think I know
this is constructive rest, but wouldn't it be more constructive
if we rested while stretching? Now I cannot wait for that
moment in class where I just lie on the floor with my eyes closed. In
fact about 30 minutes into yoga class I start to think Can we just get to
the punch-line already?!
When I had one child multi-tasking meant making
dinner while the baby played with the tupper-ware drawer. Now
mutil-tasking means nursing the baby, while wiping the boy's bottom while
yelling out a safety precaution to the toddler. True story. And I
did it all without breaking latch.
Queen Sophie, you haven't been an easy going baby,
but sometimes we still have a good time. Now that you are eating more you
and I have bonded over food. The other day we shared yummy coconut and
chocolate chip cookies, and then when I declared that it was time to lose this
last bit of baby weight and limit desserts, we shared a big bowl of fresh
berries. And then the following day, when I found a blessed loop-hole in
my plan with coconut and chocolate chip pancakes, we jointly devoured those. You
had a big smile and a ring of chocolate around your mouth.
You squeal and pump your legs when you see your
brother Zachary, and after not seeing Baby Kate for a couple of days scooted up
to her and gave her your first deliberate hug.
Which brings me to the distilled
version of this post, my royal daughter:
you are loved, happy first birthday.
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