Phew, What a Difference a Year Makes
Birthdays are a time for reflection—and mine really got me in my feels this year.
This past Sunday, I celebrated my 34th birthday. On Saturday, my husband and I went out for a date night—we got margaritas at one of my favorite restaurants, and then had dinner at a new sushi restaurant. On Sunday, I went out for brunch with one of my best friends, and then we got pedicures, hit up Dunkin’, and did a little shopping. That night, my husband made really good steak for dinner, and we watched Zoolander, one of my favorite movies that I have been craving lately. Oh and he made me breakfast both mornings and also let me sleep in. It was pretty much a perfect birthday weekend.
Last year, my birthday weekend was one of the hardest weekends of my life. CJ was just over 3 months old and she suddenly was no longer a sleepy newborn who snoozed all day long. She would not take a nap unless she was on me, cried for a large portion of the day, and was still waking up at least two times overnight. I hadn’t slept more than 2 hours at a time for over 3 months. I had started taking on a little bit of work, thinking I’d have at least a few hours a day to myself (l o l). I was touched out, exhausted in a way I never knew a person could be exhausted and still function, anxious about taking good care of my baby, and stressed about meeting deadlines… and it all was just too much.
I will never forget sitting in the rocking chair in the nursery on the morning of my birthday, rocking and singing and trying to get my baby to calm down and take a nap. She was wailing, and I started sobbing right along with her. I officially broke.
My cousin and her husband were visiting that weekend for my birthday and to meet the baby. She saw this happen and immediately changed her flight so that she could stay a few extra days and help me during the week. (My husband is a tax accountant and early April is his busiest time at work, so I was also alone caring for CJ all day and night during the week.)
Oh and it was Easter that weekend. So my husband ended up taking CJ to a family gathering while the rest of us went for a walk and to grab lunch so that I could just have a little time to breathe. It may have been my second time alone without the baby since she was born. Of course, there was a time limit because CJ would not take a bottle and so I was still exclusively breastfeeding and she’d need to eat again in 2 hours max.
Everyone had told me that things would get easier at 12 weeks, so I didn’t understand why it felt like everything was actually getting harder. Was it that the sleep deprivation was just catching up with me? Was she actually crying more often than before? Was it normal that she suddenly refused to take a nap? Was she just going to be a baby who didn’t nap ever? Would she ever finally start sleeping for those elusive “long stretches” more often than once every 10 days? Would I ever be able to leave her side for more than 2 hours at a time? I was spiraling so hard and really could not see the light at the end of the tunnel.
And now here I am, a year later, and the light is so bright. Literally—it was a gorgeous sunny April weekend! And figuratively—I no longer feel sad and hopeless; I’m happy and really enjoying this whole mom thing. I actually texted one of my bffs (who is also a mom and one of my biggest supports) on Sunday and said: “I keep almost crying when I think about how unwell I was for my birthday last year and how much I feel like I’m thriving and just like a totally new person this year. It feels really good.”
For the record, if you’re in a similar place to where I was last birthday, it does change. I promise. There’s nothing magical about 12 weeks, so don’t feel discouraged if things don’t suddenly feel on the up at that time. CJ became an excellent napper around 5 months. She started taking a bottle around then, too, and we added formula and it was a great decision for us (now this is all a nonissue because she just eats normal food… and by normal food I mean mostly extra sharp cheddar cheese, noodles, toast, and applesauce pouches.) She eventually started sleeping more nights than not. The clouds slowly drifted away and I started to feel like myself again—except now I also have an awesome toddler that I get to enjoy. It gets better, I promise.
On my birthday this year, in between the meals out and “me” time, I ran around the yard kicking a ball with my 15-month-old who loves to play “‘side” and dig in the dirt and play with rocks. Before I left for brunch, I scooped her up for a hug and kiss, she giggled and gave me a kiss right back, and I thought about how being a mom finally feels as rewarding as I always thought it would be. It’s still hard—don’t get me wrong—but I feel way more equipped to handle the challenges I’ve faced so far in this stage.
When CJ turned 1 in December, a lot of people asked me if the year flew by or felt slow. When I look at her, it feels like a blink of an eye. (When did my baby turn into a toddler who climbs stairs and says actual words???) When I think about myself, it feels like a decade has passed. We all hope to reflect on our birthdays and notice that we’ve changed or grown in some way, and I think it’s safe to say this has been my biggest year of growth and change yet. I’m proud of myself, and excited and hopeful about what the next year will bring. Cheers to 34!