My wrap up of the year that’s been is a piece of cathartic writing: more for me than an audience though hopefully of some interest to any who may stumble upon it.
This time last year, the sweet, salty Summer breeze I love about the seaside town I live in sparked my annual December conundrum: how will next year be different? I’m far from alone in pondering New Years Resolutions and probably about as successful as most: not very. Although my year has been transformative, I felt until recently that half of my resolutions had been shelved for another attempt this coming January. I was really wrong with this one as I realised they’d all been achieved, just in a different way than I ever could have imagined.
2017 was the year of fresh starts and time to adieu a 3 year chunk of what can only really be referred to as utter bullshit. A relationship of mental anguish and mistrust was over. Hallelujah! For the first time in a long time I felt empowered. I felt excited to have my own life back and, yes, a bit sad for the other party who was now experiencing some of the hardships and difficulties I too had endured. I had learnt so much about my value and how I had undersold myself and what I deserved. With the final chapter closed, I could see clearly that I had desperately needed to say enough was enough and step away. I forgave myself for tolerating what I had and just like that the love I always wanted walked straight into my life.
“There is no love without forgiveness and there is no forgiveness without love” – Bryant H McGill
Isn’t it said that those who appreciate what they already have will want for nothing? It’s on trend to talk about mindfulness, increasing our attention and practicing gratitude and it’s not just en vogue, it works. The downloads stats for Gratitude Apps must spike in January as the hairspray and glitter from NYE crunch under tired hands and the pounding mojito headache triggers a desire for change. Truthfully, I only updated a journal entry into Gratitude a dozen times before the app was clumped into a folder of similar self improvement apps but the initial practice of taking the time to write down my daily thoughts stemmed a year long practice of thanks. I didn’t know it yet but my body was about to give me a whole lot more to be thankful for.
You see my big resolution was the all time classic, post Christmas indulgence and sweaty, swimsuit season realisation that my thighs were slightly more wobbly than my gym effort should result: weight loss. I longed to buy a bikini for my 26th birthday and really love the body I’d worked so hard to improve. The first day of the year, I ate a salad. The second day, I hiked a mountain I promised myself I’d one day conquer. The third day, I went back to the now infamous HIIT classes that had seen me lose 10kg a year earlier. This pattern continued while each day I become more enamoured by the kind, uncomplicated and honest man who even made it into a Gratitude journal entry. And on the 17th day, after feeling many of the trusty Google search symptoms, I left the gym, waited for the supermarket to open, rushed home and found out I was pregnant.
It wasn’t exactly how I dreamt of learning I would be a mum and it takes a while to sit with big news like this and decipher how you feel. For me it came down to following my heart and intuition that everything will be alright. In fact, I believed it would be better than alright. It would be remiss of me to say there weren’t obstacles, tears and a new world record of cake consumption by one person in a 9 month period. When it comes to life changing decisions, I knew my heart would lead me in a wiser decision than my head could (which was bogged down in goals of targeted teaching positions and anxious over pending uni assignments).
And so by my 26th birthday, rather than the bikini I’d dreamt of, I sported a 27 week baby bump and it was the beginning of a new kind of love for my own body. While I used to write a blog with a cat on my lap, I now often have a sleeping 3 month old on my shoulder who will not be put down and a cold cup of tea perched just out of reach. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My newborn son taught me to slow down and be present in the moment which is hard when you’ve lived the previous 26 years as a dreamer and a planner for the future. When you’re awake for the third time in the middle of the night and pushing through the toe curling pain of learning to breastfeed, you have no choice but to sit in the moment and really cherish it, cracked nipples and all. The warm, cocoon of the newborn bubble allowed us to move slowly in the our house that was now more of a home than ever before, it was the first home our baby would know and it was just brimming with love. Did you know that a baby is born with adult sized eyes? They’re so wise and bright, adjusting to the light of their new world and recognising the muffled voices they heard inside their true first home. Leo’s first home was my body and for just the shortest time, that was over in a flash, I was his whole world and when you think of it like that, it’s impossible not to love your own mother more and feel oh so special to be chosen to grow a new life, and for that time,be their entire world. I loved feeling him squirm and kick and after the awkward time of looking like a simply loved cards too much, I loved my rounded belly and three purple stripes that emerged when there was no room left for my skin to grow. I loved that of any challenge I’d ever faced, this was the hardest yet also most natural, instinctual and calmest of all. In my new partner, I found a kind, supportive and heartfelt connection that was all I could wish for. When I was sick, he bought me ice-cream and tea in bed. When I was sad, he wrapped me in a hug that held me together. When he was happy, I was happy and we’d laugh like merry little fools drunk on our own love. And that’s how we built a happier life than I could have hoped for and there were certainly no bikinis present.
Since our baby arrived, we’ve experienced terrifying and heart stopping fear of losing our baby twice. Each time we left the hospital with a greater respect for the fragility of life, deeper appreciation for our own strength and really quite awestruck at the resilience of a baby to bounce back healthier than before. I also realised there is no one else I’d ever want by my side to face my worst fears and hold my hand throughout.
As I finish my post downstairs with the luxury of a hot coffee and sans New Years hangover, I can hear the loving voice of a father (probably pinching bub’s chubby cheeks) asking if his littlest love had had a good sleep and what he’d dreamt about (Boobies? Milkies? Hello Mr Baby, I’m so happy to see your smilies this morning! Can you hear the cicadas outside? It’s a new year and a new day!). So my resolve for 2018 is to nurture these two loves of mine and continue to look after myself and love my body that created magic and gave us a new life. I don’t doubt that I’ll get to my other goals of swimsuits and biceps but in the meantime I’m more than happy with my giggling, smiling, chubby, gurgling boy, and his son.
And if you made it this far, here’s your reward: damn cute baby spam! You’re welcome.
Here is a snippet of our sun soaked venture to parenthood and our newborn love bubble captured by the uber talented Jade Flores.
I’m also a sucker for posting all those cliche milestone pictures via Instagram because who doesn’t love a fat, thigh rolling and double chinned balding baby?
Red Canister Diaries 