Baby Steps Toward Toddlerhood

One year ago. (In the cold, crappy apartment. Not that I'm still bitter or anything. But seriously, high 50s/low 60s inside with a newborn? I wanted the engineer's head on a platter.)

Chris caught this photo when Charlotte gave me a good kick. And yes, this is as big as I got. And no, Charlotte was not born sickly or tiny. I never, ever measured normally, but Charlotte measured perfectly throughout the whole pregnancy.

It’s late at night now (for me, anyway), and the only chance I’ve had to have some uninterrupted time to myself. Besides the plague earlier in the week, two snow days have kept us Hofmanns home, and balancing entertaining Charlotte with being diligent and productive telecommuting worker bees has kept both Chris (who also had to shovel the driveway) and me busy, busy, busy. Snow is appropriate, though—Charlotte was born early on a snowy morning, with unbelievable blizzards following a few days later, and as we approach her first birthday, it seems snow and Charlotte’s birth go together like . . . . scarves and mittens. Or wool socks and snow boots. Or hills and sleds. You get the idea. As January 30 comes closer, I can’t help but think back to a year ago. How excited we were. How nervous we were. How freaking clueless we were. Starting out clueless and becoming less clueless are normal aspects of parenthood, I guess, and (almost) one year later, I’m simultaneously surprised, proud, and relieved that the three of us survived. Looking at those photos above, I want to yell at the girl with the belly, “Clean the apartment, now! Go grocery shopping! Put together the changing table! Pack the hospital bag! Quit worrying about work!" And most importantly, “Get some sleep! You won’t sleep again until April!”

About 24 hours after those photos were taken, I felt the big “pop” that put things in motion. (For the birth story, click here.) But in these two photos, I see how blissfully unaware I was, how naively I thought Charlotte would cook for another 2 weeks or so. Because, remember, first-born babies are ALWAYS late, right? Well, right from the get-go, Charlotte taught me that SHE is in charge. I can plan and schedule all I want, but life literally revolves around her, especially as a newborn. Nothing can prepare a new mother for this reality. As someone not exactly known for go-with-the-flow flexibility, this little lesson in parenting damn near killed me. But now? Now it’s second nature. When Charlotte decides to wake up for the day at 4:30 a.m. on Saturday morning, I go with it, making a pot of coffee and playing with my girl on floor in front of the fire while it’s still dark outside. I even learned to cherish these quiet mornings in which I feel like we’re the only two people in the world awake. I know I don’t have to go to work that day, so I don’t bother to watch the clock. Then my baby girl grins and crawls up into my lap, nestling into my fleece robe—only to scurry off again to chase a toy. The first year of motherhood is a mixed bag of highs and lows. I shed many Charlotte-related tears (both good and bad) this past year, from exhaustion when she wouldn’t stop crying or sleep longer than 10 minutes at a stretch, to breastfeeding agony (physical and emotional), to the angst of going back to work, to landing our girl a spot in a wonderful school with the most loving teachers ever, to the struggle to establish work–life balance (we got it worked out), to watching the horrible hospital procedures torture my 8-month-old baby, to the pride I feel just looking at her bright-eyed face—which, I admit, can make me happily, unexpectedly just want to cry because she’s SO DAMN CUTE! These days, I marvel at my no-longer-a-baby girl. I miss her babyness in some ways—this morning she rested her head on my chest and sucked her thumb for a bit, and I thought I miss this! But I’m also so excited to watch her continue to grow and become ever more Charlotte-y. The other day, I watched all (yes, all) the short little videos that Chris and I had recorded on his iPhone, wanting to reach through the tiny screen and cuddle my 6-month old baby. Maybe this is why siblings are so often about 2 years apart. You experience a strange sadness as your baby becomes a toddler, and you seek to fill that little part of your mommy heart again. (No, we’re not yet planning on #2. I don’t miss the baby stage that much.) Maybe I’m just sentimental, or maybe this is what every mama feels as her first-born baby approaches her first birthday. But hey, I still have 3 more days until Charlotte is a toddler, right? Now, please excuse me while I go lovingly stare at the most perfect creature ever sleep (that is, twist, turn, kick, and snort) in the crib upstairs.