Melanie Good (vegmum) wrote,
Melanie Good

My baby is 2 now!

Ashley had her second birthday on Monday! The thing I thought about this year on her birthday is just how sad of a state of affairs our birthing practices are in this civilization. I had an observational astronomy class Monday night that I skipped so that I could be with my baby on her birthday. Lots of people thought I was nuts--she's only 2; she wouldn't even know the difference if I missed her birthday, why not celebrate the next day? Why? Because, she may not know or remember her birth, but *I* do!!! She wasn't born the next day (which would have been my due date)-- she entered the world March 13, 2004 at 10 AM.

Still, this bit of information (the fact that I would know it wasn't her birthday if we celebrated the next day) was still generally met with a "so, who cares?" sort of mentality, even by other mothers. My hypothesis is that most mothers missed out on the beauty and euphoria that a birth can be, and so, to them, it's not as big of a deal to commemorate the exact occassion. But when I think about Ashley's birth, my heart is always touched by the warmth of the experience. I remember it with fondness--being in my own home, my husband's hands being the first human hands ever to touch our baby, holding her naked to my breast, and snuggling into our babymoon over a tasty dish of lasagna while the afternoon sun of spring shone through the window... How could I try to pretend these precious memories occured on March 14? I feel sorry for moms that do not have that swooning nostalgia greet them when their child celebrates their birthday. Indeed, I admit, I do not feel quite as enamoured when I celebrate Sarah's birthday, as her birth was just something I managed to "get through" not something I honestly enjoyed. But are there really so few mothers out there who enjoyed their birth experiences? Is that why no one can relate to my wanting to blow out the candles on March 13th not March 14th?

In any case, she's a two year old now. And maybe that fact is just starting to make me feel old, but I've been in a bit of a funk this week. I'm having that "what am I doing with my life?" sort of feeling lately. I mean, I'm going to be 29, and I still have lots of education ahead of me if I truly want to earn a PhD. Am I doing the right thing? Or should I be simply enjoying every precious fleeting moment of my girls' childhoods? I go back and forth: I should really be at home with them... to... well, where would that leave me when they are grown if I've spent all my years doting on them and doing nothing for myself? I suppose it all is just balance, but finding the right balance is sometimes trickier than you think...

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