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.