One and Done
It feels as though I’m crossing a finish line of the biggest race I’ve ever run. Tate’s turning one.
To mark it, I plan the day carefully. Excited, I somehow also feel a dread I can't quite explain.
After a snuggly morning of nursing and reading and playing hide and seek, we head out on a big bike ride with our Tate tucked into the burly behind us, bouncing along, happily talking to her giant sock monkey, seated beside her.
After the outing and a nap, I put her in the linen, cream lace-collared dress my own mother wore on her first birthday and had had photographs taken in. Not because I’m close to my mom, nor because it’s particularly cute. But, because I think maybe a bit of legacy is fitting for such a momentous occasion.
I take a few, mostly blurry photos of my girl, as she barely ever stops moving.
Tate’s cake has a giant number one on it. Her real first foray into sugar. At first hesitant, she uses just her pincers. Slowly, multiple fingers scoop the frosting into her mouth. She doesn’t dive in the way I thought she would. So, I eat most of it by bedtime.
As I head upstairs, early and blue, I realize how very sad I am. It feels like the saddest day of the year. As though it’s all over.
When her father asks what’s wrong, I tell him, “I guess that’s it. I mean, she’s one and I’m done. And I don’t want to be.” He giggles, half because he hopes I’m kidding and half because he doesn’t understand.
“Truly, she really doesn't even need me anymore. She’ll be done nursing anytime now and I’ve taught her how to sleep and she’s walking and can do most everything now. It just feels like there’s nothing left for me to do, as her mom …”
Having two much older kiddos himself, he lets his chuckles now get louder. Though I know how ridiculous I sound, I’m not at all kidding.
I repeat, quite seriously, “That was a huge year. Huge. And I guess now - my job is done.” Tears fill my eyes and I can’t seem to gain any perspective other than this one.
The speed of time, how I cannot slow it or speed it, how I’m not in charge of anything - it all takes me over. Tate is everywhere these days; she’s fast and smart and curious. She’s her own person and so capable; she’s everywhere. Ready for the world. Awake.
And me? I feel as though I may be left behind.
