Let the music play

When I first began to write this post at the start of last week, a girlfriend of mine was due to give birth to her daughter in a matter of days. I have been thrilled for her since the day she found out she was expecting. Heck. I was thrilled when I caught wind that she was considering the idea of getting pregnant. In the months that preceded my efforts to conceive Roscoe, I actively tried to recruit her to join me in my pursuit to become a momma, because it's more fun with friends, right!? To no avail. Nevertheless, shortly after Roscoe was born she announced that she was pregnant. Remember her baby shower? She and her husband live directly across the street from us and over the last few weeks, between our two houses, anticipation has been building.

The days leading up to their birth-day got me thinking about how we felt this time last year, suspended in the quiet before the storm. I often muse that we had no appreciation for the true magnitude of what was about to hit us.

Spring makes me happy and April 2009 brought a warmer, brighter, and fresher season. At nine months pregnant I still had tight control over time. We slept late, eating up the peaceful calm that had blanketed our very existence as we anticipated the birth of our son. We showered at will, exercised nightly, and found plenty of time for reading, laughing, and connecting.

Sleep, control, autonomy, self maintenance--we took them all for granted.

If you had asked me at the time, there was nothing I would have wished we had done "before kids", except to indulge in a little international travel. And truthfully, I imagined that there was plenty of time for such things, later. What I could not have known was that our child would have sleep issues necessitating that we remain close to home. That we would not so much as leave the area--not once!--in the 11 months following his birth, for fear of disrupting the established routine. Or the role that time zones and unfamiliar environments might play against our carefully crafted norm.

Looking back, I wish I had taken just some of that extraneous time to soak up and relish in the everyday little things that now I can't put a finger on, even if I wished with all my might: sleeping when I'm tired, eating when I'm hungry, having space to retreat when I need to be alone, or finding time to cross off even one or two items from my to-do list each day. As my friends can attest, answering email with a response time of less than 10 days is nothing short of a miracle.

Some nights I have ambitious dreams about how it would feel to wake up truly rested, or what it would be like to have an entire day spread out before me and the power of choice combined with opportunity to engage in any activity or nothing at all. These days, the chance to focus on any one thing in increments greater than 2 minutes is a rare and savored moment--now that Roscoe is mobile, and vocal, keeping him content and occupied remains a challenge. It's an exception to the rule when I'm able to step away from him for more than a few minutes at a time--on cue his screeches and hollers, or adventurous endeavors, demand my hasty return.

This all goes without mentioning the daily balancing act that is, for lack of a better word, unfair--not everyone gets everything they need (well, two out of the three of us, anyway) and avoiding feelings of guilt and deficiency is the challenge of the day when I realize how unevenly my time is divided between Roscoe, Andy, work, and those precious few hours in the evenings that I carve out for myself--primarily to exercise--so that the non-momma "me" doesn't disappear completely as a result of giving everything to the point of leaving nothing.

Thursday night, coinciding with the frenzy of last minute packing--because we finally worked up the nerve to take a vacation (!)--Melissa went into labor. Actually, she'd been in the early stage of labor for well over 24 hours, but the contractions were finally becoming regular at 7 minutes apart. I remember the start of my labor with Roscoe as both thrilling and terrifying.

We've seen each other through the joyful turbulence that is trying to conceive and carry a baby. So it was a sweet twist of fate that I had the opportunity to offer support during those late night and early morning hours.

Birth is a Herculean feat that demands so much from the body that gives it, yet remains a force all its own. There is a certain trust that we can have in ourselves to safely bring our babies into the world. It is hard to put into words the warm fuzzies that Roscoe's birth elicits, and I continue to be inspired with awe by the birthing process. Being present for part of Melissa's journey to bring Kaleigh into the world was no exception. She was as calm and in control as they come.

I walked back to my house and crawled into my bed around 3:00 am, with the start of our first family vacation looming just three hours ahead (more to come on this)! Despite our best effort to disconnect from the hustle of dc suburbia, we were glued to the iphone all weekend, dying for news. Baby Kaleigh was born on her due date, Friday the 23rd, at 9:30pm.

Babies bring a state of constant change. They change our routine, our perspectives, our love, and they alter our reality. As parents we willingly give up so much, and without a second thought, to ensure that our kids thrive. Those first few moments, hours, days, even weeks--they are blissful. And before you know it, Reality marches in, bringing with it the 24-hour demands of perhaps one of the greatest relationships we'll ever know, and a challenge to strike balance as we foster a new family dynamic.

For me, the first year has been somewhat a blur. So much gets put off, or left behind, as you work to stay afloat. Now that the dust has settled, we're eager to refocus more of our energy on each other and our marriage, and all the little things that collectively combine to create sanity and a sense of control in our lives.

Our friends have so much to look forward to, and they will be challenged in ways that will make them grow. I imagine that their journey will be no less extraordinary or profound. If they aren't already, they soon will be dancing and singing to the tune of Little Kaleigh who will without a doubt rock their world.