Every time I think that it is Turner's first birthday, I start to tear up. Like I'm pregnant all over again or something. It seems like a really silly thing to cry about.
Its 5:54am. Turner slept through the night (for the second time since he we 7 weeks old!) and I thought I'd get up to finish frosting his carrot cake cupcakes and drink some coffee before the chaos of our daily life begins.
A year ago today I was at home (in our rental apartment). I was crouched on all fours in the hall between the dining room and living room. Our midwife's apprentice, Kara, tried to give my pillows for my knees, but I liked to feel "solid" and grounded (ha - literally) as the contractions came so strong.
When Turner takes his nap at 9, it will mark the one year point from when I was sitting on the toilet in our 5'x7' yellow tiled bathroom vomiting and going to the bathroom at the same time and thinking "YES! This is okay - someone else will clean the bathroom and I'M IN TRANSITION!".
When we leave for his little mini party consisting of just his two cousins, it will be a year from when he came out and cuddled on my chest in a big pool of warm water. A year from his first knowing look at his dad (a look he gives him many times a day), a year from when we became a family.
One Month:
Two Months:
Three Months:
Four Months:
Five Months:
Six Months:
Seven Months:
Eight Months:
(this was during the weeks of pink eye, cold, moving - so we have few pictures :)
Nine Months:
Ten Months:
11 Months:
One Year!
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