What a difference a year can make!

I am about to turn 34, and I think this birthday is a significant one for me. It's not as traumatic as 30, not quite as scary as 35 when you must say you're in your "mid-thirties" rather than "early thirties"; but it's my first birthday as a mom, and for that reason it feels different than the rest. Every birthday from now on will be celebrated with my son. I was actually pregnant last year on my 33rd birthday but I didn't know it yet. I was 10 days along, but the confirmation wouldn't come until August 16th when the pink line appeared on the home pregnancy test. So I guess this isn't my first birthday as a mom in the most technical sense.

I've decided that blogging will be an excellent way for me to document my experiences as a mom. I will balance the blog with the diary I have kept since February, called "Mommy's notes to Nicholas," that I am writing to Nick, for Nick. This blog will be a more public forum for my thoughts and experiences, and allow my friends and family to participate in the process a little more actively. I am loving the experience of motherhood so far, and I look forward to sharing the highs and lows with everyone here.

The funny thing is, no matter how much I document mommyhood, no matter how many pictures I take, I always wish there were more ways to hold on to these precious moments. I know the pictures, the diaries, the blogs - none of these can capture the magic of just being with Nick, of those times when he smiles so brightly at me, when he giggles with me, when I say "I love you" and he responds, "Ah woo," when he falls asleep holding my fingers so tightly that his little knuckles turn white. I'm starting to realize, already, that the most treasured parts of this journey will be the ones I can't photograph, the ones for which there are no words. As someone who wants always to "hold on" to time, the challenge for me is to let go, and in letting go learn to understand that life is meant to be lived, not remembered. If you work too hard to remember, you aren't able to be present in the moment.

And yet I will continue to document and digest and record. It's my way of trying to control what cannot be controlled. It's also the only way to share with others what I am so fortunate to have: The love of a baby that my body created, that David and I brought into this world together, with which God has so clearly blessed us.