One month from today will be the anniversary of the most painful experience of my life. Is that really something I want to celebrate every single year? With cake?
Regardless, my baby boy is almost one. I remember last fall taking walks around the neighborhood with this tiny person and not believing I would make it this far. Surely the exhaustion would kill me. Everyone assured me it would get better, but all I wanted was my future self to come back in time and tell me it was true. So just in case time isn't linear, I'm sending good thoughts to my past self, to let her know that it does get easier. It's still really hard, but in different ways, and you get used to it. Sort of. I guess that's the way it'll be for his whole life. We finally get a handle on one thing and then he'll throw something new at us.
So we'll be throwing our very first kid's birthday party in a few weeks. It's pretty amazing to think about. We survived a whole year!