almost a year

A week from today will be Eliana's first birthday. I'm sitting here listening to the cd I made for her, "Eliana's Love Songs." It's really should be called Mommy's Love Songs for Eliana. These songs are so full of memories. Of those hot, early August days when she slept in the sling while we walked, slowly around the park, my body still not healed, by skin still thick and hormonal, her personality still hidden in long naps, fussy evenings. Then the smoke moved in and the air became thick too. We sat and stared out the window at the brown haze, the red curtain in our living room casting an ominous glow on our day, trying not to breathe too deeply, lest our lungs, which still seemed one, take in anything less than our pure, new love.

The fall was perfect, when my memories are most vivid, awesome and clear. The leaves turned. Yellow and gold greeted our trips to the park. School started without me. Instead of sharpening pencils and making name tags, I had long lunches with my girlfriends and their babies, hiked up the mountain behind my house, held Eliana through her naps, watched her breath change, her eyelashes grow, her limbs strengthen. The days grew cooler. My return to work loomed like tragedy, an end to this precious time.

And suddenly it was November. The days leading up to my return were filled with tumult, anxiety, sadness, apprehension. Everything felt like one huge loss. But we got through it. And Eliana learned to love spending her days with her grandparents, filled their lives with her silly smiles and precious noises. I slowly learned to appreciate the other parts of myself. The way my mind has to be focused and organized to teach children. The importance of preparing and "being on" in a way that I didn't have to be at home with a baby.


We moved through a long winter. Lots of snow, the holidays, more snow, Valentine's day, more snow, my birthday. It was around March that I finally started to want to nurture my whole self again. I actually wanted to go out without Elie, wanted to do things that were just for me. I never thought I would want that again. There was a time when I never wanted to be away from her, not even to go on a dinner date with Jeff, not even to hike without having to carry her on my
chest.



My muscles started to come back together. My hair stopped falling out. My clothes began to really fit again. I felt, and still feel, more vibrant and strong and lovely than ever before. Eliana continues to be the smily, audacious, daring, engaged, enthusiastic, whole hearted lover that she's always been. That she will continue to be. I realize now that time will never stop moving. It will continue to slip away from me, the days rolling into each other like the sea, like the wheels on her little wagon, like her dirty knees as they scoot ever so quickly across the kitchen floor. All I can do is try to hold on to the moments. Keep writing. Realize how vital this expression of love is. That bringing love, holding love, expressing gratitude and kindness and being my absolute best self is the only true gift I can give my girl for her first birthday, for all her days. And all of mine.