Miss Beckett turned one today. A year ago I was basking in the mostly painless aftermath of my excruciating 74 hour labor. I looked into her eyes and that was that. A pure love for her battled all labor wounds... and won. I disappeared the first few months after her birth. I wasn't depressed or feeling a lack of excitement for the world, but my priorities shifted. I had a lopsided body and my brain was consumed by exhaustion and growing a human with milk from my sore bosom. My motivations were simplistic and biological. I had little desire to do anything other than to feed myself and my family. I didn't pet the cats for four months. My emotional teets were all dried up. I saved my affections for Beckett and Michael.
As the months progressed, little bits of my former self resurfaced. My body was slowly morphing back to what it was. My brain adapted to fatigue and I learned how to manage on 4 hours of sleep. I began to make things again and sentences weren't as wobbly when writing and reading them. The feeling during this period was similar to living in another country and finally getting the hang of the language, pace, food and culture of the place.
I'm sleeping through the night now. Dreams are more consistent and lucid. Though my tail bone is crooked from pushing a baby out of my yoni, my body is again familiar to me. I sneak bursts of movement into pieces of my days. I can read and watch movies without falling asleep. I leave the house after 7:30 to meet friends without feeling like I'm going to pass out at 9.
My work pattens are different. Rather than focusing on lots of little projects and two large projects at a time, I only work on one or two large projects. I work full-time and still need to roll around on the floor with the babe and my hub-chop, so multiple art projects have been stored away for a little while.
Beckett points and babbles, ending each sound with a question mark. She hobbles across the kitchen floor without holding onto anything. She pets Ruby the cat and laughs when she purrs. She attempts to pull on her socks and hats through her elbows. She picks her nose unabashedly. She climbs the stairs. She cackles when looking at herself in the mirror.
Beckett has become my teacher. From her I've learned to smile more, to breathe more, to pause more, to listen more, and to be more playful in general.
Happy birthday sugar booger.