Thoughts from the straightaway at the end of the first lap...

This week, that there kiddo is going to be a year old. In thinking back and forward, I could imagine far-flung friends saying things like, "Wow! That was fast!" and "Time flies!"

But, you know what? For those of us in Team Dave's, this year has not so much flown as plodded on in the sopping sand wearing ankle weights attached to heavy iron balls. It's felt a lot more like a war zone than the pastel nursery of catalogues. In other words, it's been a tough one, guys.

This coming weekend, we're celebrating. Yes, it's technically Mal's birthday and so it seems like it's a party for him, but honestly... it's for us other three. We are celebrating having made it.

We survived a year of unexplainable and prolonged crying (mostly Mal; but sometimes Daphne, under cover of the shower; and often me, paired with incoherent rambling and a few choice swear words; I don't know that James has lost it at all this year, with the exception of being pretty sniffly when I was in the diciest part of labor... but it's been difficult for him, too.). We made it through meal after meal (hope springs eternal?) that ended abruptly because this little guy decided he didn't want to be in a restaurant. We managed to hold it together through exhaustion and impatience and differences of opinion and did I mention exhaustion yet?

I know some of you Nutty McFruitbats loooove infancy and miss it when your kids grow on. Man, I don't. I didn't with Daphne, and come to find out she was a super easy baby! I was ready for Mal to be born so we could get this first year knocked out, but I had no idea what I was in for.

A year ago, I never imagined that I'd be sleeping with my baby... Not even at first, but a full year in and no end in sight? Not this lady!

This time last year, I'd not imagined how difficult it would be trying to parent simultaneously a teenager and a baby. Their needs are so vastly divergent that it's often impossible to care for both at the same time, especially when the older can't be in the room when the younger is crying or has hiccups. So when the needs butt heads, guess who wins 8 out of ten times? Yeah, the one who might literally die otherwise. (I have made it a point to let him cry and help her out several times, including her Halloween costume last year. But he usually trumps because of that whole squeaky wheel thing.)

If you'd told me while I was "in waiting" that I'd not have been away from my child for more than one hour at this point, that my husband and I would have had a total of one dinner date (walking next door for 30 minutes to grab Taco Cabana) during this stretch, or that we could have tried at three different sittings on three different days this weekend to watch a movie all the way through and still not be done with it... I probably wouldn't have believed any of that.

Should you have bothered to warn me that, after twelve whole months, a baby of mine would not only not have slept through the night one time yet, but that he would wake up every single night for that same year at a minimum of six times and that it would always be me he wanted because my nursing was the only thing that would soothe him back to sleep... I would have had ideas about nipping that in the bud and would not have heard it.

Or that he'd still be crying when I took a shower and Dad wasn't distracting him, or when I was ready to make dinner but he wasn't, or when I was taking too long to fix my hair, or any of that... It would have been unbelievable to me. It was not within my realm of experience.

Just today, a friend posted that her husband had taken their daughter to his mom's for five hours so she could bake brownies and nap, and I almost had an attitude about it. Then I remembered, "Yeah, I had that kid, too! And then I had this one."

But we made it. And we're going to celebrate.

And, of course, it hasn't all been bad.

I mean, we wanted a baby. Well, two-thirds of us did. And we were blessed, at our advanced maternal and paternal ages to have conceived not once, but twice; and to have had one healthy, VERY thriving baby. We are grateful for that. But I, for one, am also grateful that this "get-to-know-you" year is almost over! Bigger and better things are ahead.

And here's the flip side of the hard stuff: Mal has made me rethink my parenting, and, actually, my personhood. Because of this child, I have had to develop my empathy in a deeper way than I have ever needed to before. I've literally studied and mindfully put into practice a kind of unconditional love and respect for both of my kids, actually. Daphne might not realize or appreciate it yet (or ever), but Mal has made me a better and more thoughtful parent to her.

It's clear that an extra measure of grace is going to be necessary in order to deal with this very feisty little boy. I'll be honest and tell you that I don't always rise to the occasion... but I'm trying as never before. These times of honing and rounding out the rough edges are never fun during the process, but I know I'm becoming a better person because of it, and I know that God gave me this boy for this (among other) reason(s).

Another huge boon in this very trying year has been that no major faults have been uncovered in my marriage. James and I have both been stressed, but we've been stressed together, and we've pulled together. We made a deal early in our marriage that we'd not pull the "I'm more tired/I work harder" crap on each other, and while we've both talked a lot about our weariness, our inability to get done things beyond the bare minimum for sustaining life and satisfying the health department at times, it's never in an "oh, yeah? well, I..." way. Team Dave's isn't just a name. We're truly a team. And having this not-easy baby has reinforced that, making it stronger.

And then, of course, there's Mal himself. For every gray hair and clenched jaw his presence has caused, there is even more laughter and amazement and love beyond measure. The other day, I was sitting in his room and he wanted to nurse. It was really "too early" (these days, it's practically all we do again), but he asked so nicely. Then I just sat there and watched him, saying, "I love you so much" and crying like a stupid baby. But I do love him. So much.

As Mal matures, he's getting better at articulating his needs. As we continue to spend time together, I'm getting better at reading those needs he can't express. The road is getting smoother, and we are better together, and so this weekend's celebration is really about all of those things.

But mostly, yeah, that the first year is over, that we made it, that we learned a lot, and that, as far as I'm concerned, it only gets better from here on out.