Project Emily Advent: Day 5
Write about a day that you didn’t want to end.
May 14, 2023 was my first Mother’s Day.
I don’t think she slept all the way through the night, but she at least had some long enough stretches that I woke feeling rested. Peet picks her up from her crib and carries her across our small home to where I am lying cozy in our bed. She nurses and we snuggle in bed. She rolls around and climbs over pillows while we wait for her dad to come back from the store. She is wearing my favorite pajamas of hers, the really soft ones with the tiny brown flowers. I love her gummy grin. We eat breakfast tacos smothered in salsa at our dining table, sipping coffee, while she plays on the floor. I cut the tulips he brought me and arrange a bouquet. I make a second arrangement for his mom that we will deliver later in the day. Hung over our small dining table is a felt garland that reads: Best Mom Ever. I am not embarrassed to admit that I bought this myself.
I wear my favorite dress, the floral print from Christy Dawn, the one he gave me as a birthing present. Most people call them push presents, but since I never pushed, calling it that makes me feel sad, so it got a new name.
The three of us drive to Austin together. We listen to music and talk and I tell Peet that the magnolia tree around the corner is blooming. I receive many wishes for a happy Mother’s Day from friends and family. Daniel even calls me, which is so rare for our generation. I save the voicemail.
I nurse Scout before handing her off to her dad, and disappearing into my favorite day spa, where I don the familiar soft robe and sip hibiscus tea in the company of only myself, which is so wildly rare these days. I receive the best massage I’ve ever had, sinking desperately into deep relaxation. When I emerge, I am sleepy-eyed and happy. But I missed my baby.
We go together to the bookstore nearby, where I pick out three new books for myself. We eat lunch and buy macarons and peonies. We meander home where she naps and we relax and talk about the whirlwind of the last six months. I mix the peonies in with the tulips and wonder how I got so lucky.
I take a long bubble bath and think about the day she was born, the day I became Mother’s day eligible. The day that went not at all like it was supposed to, but which resulted in getting our girl, healthy and whole. We eat pizza. We drink wine. I am so grateful. For her. For him. For me. For all of the strength and courage that we have mustered together.
