An entirely ordinary blogpost about not blogging, motherhood and giving birth

Wow, it's been a while. I've sort of wrapped myself up in motherhood and playwriting.... blogging has been in the far recesses of my mind. Things get neglected now that never did before.

My toenails, for example.
My hair.
The floors, alas.
Sometimes the Pug. I know, Pablo... I used to play with you so much more.
It's only natural that I neglect the blog as well. It wouldn't be fair to Pablo otherwise.

The longer I go away, the harder it seems to return.

I keep thinking that because I haven't blogged in so long that my next post has to be amazing. It has to make up for lost time. And that pressure keeps me from blogging.

Silliness.

So I decided to just write an entirely ordinary post.  No need to shatter minds. Just type what surfaces. What has been on my mind.

I know you've been dying to know.

What is really on my mind is where I was one year ago today.

I was sitting on a birthing ball in a motel room in Anacortes, Washington, leaning into Bob and trying my best to breathe through the pain. Malcolm was beginning his journey into the world. One year ago today. It's too much to comprehend.

It really is.

Friday he took his first steps. Already walking.

I'm really emotional thinking about his birth. And I'm so glad that I documented it on my other blog- Two Years On an Island. My mom suggested that I read it out loud every year on Malcolm's birthday. I like that idea.

Now that I'm a mom, the to-do list is never-ending. One important to do on my list this week is WRITE MALCOLM A LETTER FOR HIS BIRTHDAY.

He'll turn one whether or not I write that letter. But, I know I'll regret it if I don't. The dishes and laundry can wait.

And that's that.

How's that for an entirely average blog post. Pretty good, I think. I feel better, at least. Blog neglected no more.

This time last year

I'm nursing Malcolm before his bedtime when Bob puts on Malcolm's lullabies and I start crying.

The music takes me back to our bedroom on the island.

To the first few days of Malcolm's life.

The memories squeeze my heart. I ache for that time. Such joy. Did it really happen?

The Putumayo music carries my thoughts further back.

To Malcolm in my womb.

Us on the island.

This time last year.

I looked like this:

And we lived here:

And it was an amazing time.

I loved being pregnant.

I loved living on the island.

And now I love this time with Malcolm actually here in our lives. Here. Now.

 So why am I crying?

Because I'll never have those first moments with Malcolm ever again.

Each day he grows more and more independent. 

He crawls now.

This time last year he was in my womb. Kicking me from the inside. And now he crawls away, squealing with glee. Playing chase.

I'll never be pregnant on an island with Malcolm ever again.

But I'll never have THIS time with him ever again, either.

So I cry.

Because I'm so grateful to have had such an amazing experience.

And I cry because it's gone.

I cry because I don't want to miss anything.

I cry because I know I will.

I cry because it's inevitable.

Malcolm will grow up.

I will look back on today, nursing him in our bedroom in this apartment in Chicago and I will miss today.

I will long for it.

I will try to put myself back in this moment- body and soul.

And I will fall short. And cry.

It's inevitable. It's life. This is how it is.

I cry because it's all too good.

My love for my son, for my family, for life is just too great to contain in a straight face.

Sometimes, like tonight,  it needs to escape. In big, sloppy tears.

This time last year was the best time of my life... thus far.

And this time this year. Now. Is the best time of my life... thus far.

Because of you.

Malcolm James Walker.

I love...

I shot this video last night on my iPhone. Pablo was begging for scraps at the dinner table and Malcolm was just going gaga over his Pug noises. The sound of Malcolm laughing is my favorite sound in the universe.

Malcolm is 7 1/2 months already, learning to crawl (he's very good at scooting backwards) and teething (he's got two sharp little baby teeth already.)

I hope you enjoy our little man's laughter!