On Saturday morning, February 18th, I awoke to a sunny stream slipping across the peaks of Heavenly Valley mountain and through the wall-length window of our vacation rental bedroom. Ahead of me was full day of launching myself on skis down the back bowls of Kirkwood in the gorgeous 40+ degree Lake Tahoe weather, but my mood was ever so slightly melancholy. A year ago on that very day I gave birth to my littlest angel baby and now he’s 1. For the last twelve months I have tirelessly nursed and pumped, hugged and carried, changed diapers and bathed, clothed and tickled, fed and taught, awakened and rocked. And though I have continued to pump twice a day while on a well-deserved vacation because I am still not quite ready to stop nursing, Bobby is at home with his Nana Sue and his Grandma Gale drinking cow milk, going down slides at the park, walking all over the place, and sleeping through the night (something he has not done since he was about 6 months old). His infancy is now just a recent memory and I can’t help but mourn this milestone just as all mothers have before me.
I do not feel bad about being away from Bobby on his first birthday as I will be home to celebrate in no time, and his co-grandma babysitters have taken such phenomenal care of him while we’ve been away. However, as I did when Jack turned 1 as well, I spent the day both proud of the spirited child Bobby has become and disappointed that his absolute dependence on me has shifted. I love you, little man!