One year ago today marked a few momentous occasions in my life. For starters, it was my 25th birthday. Second, my Steelers won the game that took them to the Super Bowl. And, last but certainly not least, it was the day that I found out that I was going to have baby Jacob.
I discovered that I was pregnant on a Sunday afternoon. My husband wasn’t back from church yet (we drove separately), and when I saw the two lines appear on the stick, I cried. A lot. I eventually collected myself, and when he got home, mum was the word. And that continued to be the word for the next 10 hours.
I didn’t want to break the news just yet. The reason: my team was playing that night, and I didn’t want anything to distract us from the game.
Yeah. A lot has changed.
This year, I have missed more than one game simply because I wanted to take a nap, and when I do watch the games, I miss half the plays because I am too busy fawning over my little guy.
Last year, I cried because I was overwhelmed at the thought of caring for another human being for the next 18 years—could I do it, did I want to do it? It seemed like forever. This year, I tear up on a daily basis when I think about having him in my care for only 18 years. It just doesn’t seem long enough.
Back then, the thought of turning into a perpetually frumpy, sweatpant-wearing mother was mildly traumatizing. Turns out, I still have time to do my hair and makeup on most days. And the days that I don’t, I enjoy it. I’m basically wearing pajamas all day, what’s not to love?
Last year, I was concerned that I wouldn’t have enough time in the day to be a writer as well as a mother. This year, I’ve already taken on more work than I ever had preJacob. Sure, I’m often doing interviews and typing out stories one-handed while holding Jacob in my other arm, but if you ask me, that just adds bulk to my credentials. And my biceps.
I wouldn’t for a minute say that this past year has been easy, but it has been worth it. It was once said, “For anything worth having, one must pay the price; and the price is always work, patience, love, self-sacrifice.” (John Burroughs). I can think of no better way to sum up motherhood and, for Tom and for me, this last year.