Not such a little thing – birthday reflections

In my very first post on this blog, I wrote that this year was about the little things. One is a little number, but my baby is not such a little thing anymore.

I feel like this year has been as momentous for me as it has been for Arlo. I have given birth, nurtured, protected, and grown my boy from my own milk for one year. For one whole year, I have been his constant, and that, in turn, has had a massive effect on me.

It’s been one year since my life changed in the most complete way. Arlo may not have realised that it was different to any other day, I, on the other hand, spent every hour of his birthday thinking, ‘This time last year…’.

I think a first birthday is a massive milestone for a mum. One year of babyhood, done. Blink and you’ll miss it.

With this post, I want to reflect. To remember Arlo’s babyhood. So here are my favourite little moments, the stand out moments from this year – good and bad:

Feeling the slippery warm weight of a newborn Arlo being placed on my chest.

Saying the words, ‘It’s a boy’.

The first weeks and the needless worry about how much he was drinking and whether he had put on weight.

Poor latch. Feeling like I had no clue what I was doing. Evening cluster feeds.

Crying like an idiot when his umbilical stump fell off.

My first solo outing with Arlo, to a cafe in Clapham when he was two weeks old.

Mr ‘I don’t talk about feelings’, after laying a hand on Arlo’s chest for the millionth time that night, ‘I just love him so much’. Granted, a few beers had probably been had.

Evening fussiness. Taking it in turns to do laps of the house with Arlo in arms for three hours from 4.30pm until bed.

Wrapping Arlo up in a swaddle every night for four months. My burrito boy, safe and snug.

The endless wintery walks four times per day and the struggles to get him to sleep.

The funny noises he’d make as he was finally surrendering to sleep.

The harsh words exchanged in the middle of the night. Feeding Arlo in the dark, watching Sam sleep,  immensely jealous. The feeling that he had no idea how much of a toll the nights were taking on me.

Resisting the urge to comment or lash out in spite when Sam would utter the words, ‘I’m tired’.

The immense pride that took me by surprise when Arlo rolled for the first time.

Watching the look of concentration on his face as he learned to sound out consonants.

Listening to my boys giggling together.

Feeling slightly less needed when he started eating food.

His podgy little baby tummy.

The eczema.

Between two – five months old. Being frustrated that he was always unhappy.

Waybuloo.

The raspberry noises he used to make when he was content or thinking.

His beaming face greeting me from the cot every morning.

Watching him learn how to move about his environment, getting better with each try.

Those rare moments when he would lay still in my lap and actually let me cuddle him.

Holding my hand whilst feeding and the weird thing where he liked to stroke my fingernails.

Becoming mobile and a more independent little person.

Crying like an idiot again watching him eat with a big boy fork and spoon.

The first time he said ‘ball’.

Slobbery, open mouthed baby kisses.

And on that note, I will leave you with my Windows Movie Maker masterpiece. It’s been a wonderful year, Arlo.