One year.

My sweet little baby girl turns one today. At 10:58 a.m. one year ago, I gave birth to the best thing that has ever happened to me. Funny how the best things in life can be the most difficult. Once I laid eyes on my 8lb 2oz bundle of joy, I fell in love. I have grown as a woman, as a wife, as a daughter, as a mom.  I have always had a profound respect for mothers, but one can never understand how much respect they deserve until you become one.

The first two weeks: absolute torture. Yes, that includes all the physical pain and suffering that no one speaks of in those first weeks after delivery...I focused so much on how the actual childbirth would feel that I gave not one thought to how I'd feel afterwards.  That, combined with the onset of the flu when she was a mere four days old didn't help matters AT ALL (yes I got both flu shots last year).

All I could do was tell myself that every mother goes through this phase, and that I'd get through it. And I did, with the help of a little thing called Prozac. Those first 3 months, while I was on maternity leave, was most certainly a learning and adjustment period for all 3 of us. I was just hitting my stride when I had to go back to work, and that was another time of adjustment. I just wanted to stay at home with my precious little baby, to smell her sweet smell, to watch her as she slept, and to witness every single milestone.

The sleepless nights were the hardest to get through, as all you mothers out there know. I never wished more for a desk job in my life. One that involves sitting at a computer and having to speak to almost no one.  My job is 90% human interaction, and some days all I wanted to do was to tell my patient to quit complaining about the back pain that he inflicted upon himself and suck it up. I would think to myself, "I'm only sleeping 3 hours a night, I have spit-up on my shoulder, and after I see you I have to go milk myself. Get over it, whino. " Then I realized I knew what I was getting myself into when I wanted to get pregnant, and I sure as hell knew how hard it would be to be a working mom. Again, I had to remind myself to suck it up. That's when I stopped taking my happy pills.

Fast forward to the 8-month mark. Katelyn practically weaned herself from nursing, as she figured out that the bottle was much more efficient. I enjoyed the last nursing session we shared, though it was very short, as I knew it would be the last. I pumped once more the next day, and the clouds parted. I was no longer chained down to a milking machine.  I could stop wearing breast pads! I could splurge a little more on cocktails every now and then! I could eat spicy food!  The tides definitely turned.

At the 10-month mark, this little kiddo finally started sleeping (mostly) through the night, and I started feeling like myself again. She'd greet me in the morning with a huge grin, a full diaper, and an empty belly, and I couldn't be happier.  Her personality started growing by the second, not to mention her inseam.

Now, today, I got to pull my little baby toddler out of the crib and sing "Happy Birthday", kiss her soft cheek, put her down, and watch her walk down the hallway to say "Hi" to doggy Tech.

My heart is full. Happy Birthday, sweet Katelyn.