Today is the last day of Robbie’s first year, and I am not coping well. At all. I’m worried about whether or not I paid enough attention this year and if I took too much for granted. I’m teary because now I have a little boy and not a baby. And I’m utterly distraught because, well, I don’t know. I just am. Perhaps those of you who have been through this can help explain it to my husband because he keeps trying to figure out what he did wrong.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled that Robbie survived his first year with two yahoos as his parents. According to Zhining, it might have been touch and go for awhile, as American parents are not as smart as their Chinese counterparts. Robbie came into this world with a father who had never changed a diaper on a real baby and a mother who couldn’t seem to soothe him. He entered a house with a dog who didn’t understand why the new pet got so much attention. Yes, it’s remarkable that we’ve all adjusted so well.

Justin is now a champion diaper changer, and I am the only person in the house who can effectively soothe the baby — with the exception of Grover, who has thought she was his mother since we brought him home. In fact, the cat used to sit on the other side of him as he nursed, giving me a look that said, “Isn’t this tough? Thank God we have each other.” And, Grover, I couldn’t agree more. And as for Barkley, well, he and Robbie have a nice co-existence. Robbie checks to see if either Justin or I is looking and then ducks below the table to hand off whatever he is eating to Barkley. Barkley positions himself at Robbie’s left side, strategically under the table so we can’t see him, ready to take any undesired food off young Robert’s hands.

This time last year, Justin and I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. In fact, this time last year, I hadn’t even had an epidural yet. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. As I write this, I had already been in labor for 37.5 hours and still had nearly ten hours left to go. There was a lot of crying when the midwife told me I needed an epidural. I’m not even sure I can write the things I told her on here… And the things I said when they actually gave me the epidural? I may very well have a one-way ticket to hell for that. I’ll never forget Justin’s face; he was stuck somewhere between helpless, horrified, and panicked. But bless his heart for not leaving the room when they gave me the epidural. He’s still getting points for that one.

And now, not to leave you wanting more, but I think I’ll spend some of Robbie’s last day as a baby watching him as he sleeps. I don’t want to let another moment slip by. There are only so many left. And then I think I’ll be ready to move on to having a little boy and all the adventures I know we’ll have.

Robbie was due to be born one year ago today. It’s amazing how much has changed. As I type, Justin is prying shredded napkins from Robbie’s mouth while Robbie dances to music. My life has become a complicated web of diapers, bottles, hugs, kisses, tears, and messes. And that’s just with Justin!

This time last year, I panicked about having a baby. It suddenly occurred to me that I might not love the child I’d been carrying for nine months. I burst into tears on our couch one night, which probably didn’t surprise Justin that much. But my revelation did. He wrapped me up in a big hug and assured me that we would love life with Robbie. And, you know what? I do. It took me a while to get to that point. Especially the first five weeks. But now I couldn’t imagine life without him, even during temper tantrums.

During this time, I was jealous of every new mom I saw on the street. How was it that they got to meet their new babies and mine was still refusing to come and play. I think I got more panicked with every passing day because I had a finite maternity leave. Regardless of when Robbie was born, I had to go back to work 28 September. And all I wanted was time with my new baby. Now all I want is time with my little boy; I don’t even know that there’s any of my baby left.

My father-in-law came in town for Robbie’s birthday late last night. This morning, he told me he had something for me. Pat told me that birthdays, especially first birthdays need to be about moms, too. I couldn’t agree more! In fact, for the first time ever, I told my mom thank you on my birthday – I finally knew what she had gone through. Pat had brought something for me to commemorate Robbie’s first birthday. It was the ring he was given for his Confirmation over fifty years ago. I’m actually wearing it as I type. It’s a beautiful man’s ring with a diamond and a ruby — Robbie’s birthstone.

So, to everyone, I encourage you to thank your mom on your birthday; it’s really her day, too. Gentlemen, remember your wives on your kids’ birthdays. And, ladies, remember that your husbands were as supportive as they could be the days your children were born. Really, I’m sure they were. It just didn’t seem like it at the time…