Brand New

I spent the majority of 2020 on lockdown like the rest of the world, but growing a human inside of my body. To be honest, this wasn’t a planned pregnancy, but in no way was it an unwanted one. Five months in, I decided it was in my unborn baby’s and my best interest to separate from his father and be closer to my family. I flew from Hawaii to Indiana to move in with my parents like a good knocked up millennial during a global pandemic ought to do. It would be my first winter in over twelve years. Born on November 22, I rang in the New Year in bed with my six-week-old baby.

My resolutions this year weren’t so much chosen by me as they were chosen for me by virtue of having a baby; to be patient, to be present, to have unconditional faith, and be unconditionally loving.

It’s easy to make resolutions of doings. Do this or do that; don’t do this or that. These were the types of resolutions I would make for myself when I made New Years resolutions every year as if the entire worth of my existence depended on them. Workout every day; drink eight glasses of water. You can make check boxes next to your lists of do’s and don’ts and praise or shame yourself for the good or bad you did or didn’t do.

There’s nothing wrong with these lists. I know I’ll make them for myself again one day. This year, though, for me is different. This year, I have an infant, and his presence in my life has shifted everything. It’s not that I see the world through his eyes, I don’t. His eyes are his, and mine are still mine. It’s more that my own eyes have become new.

Refocused—to resolutions of beings, rather than doings. Be patient. Be present. Be faithful. Be loving. It’s harder to measure these things. I can’t check mark that I completed my tasks of patience or presence in a day. Yet even just within the two and a half months of my son’s own presence in my life thus far, I can say without a doubt that my capacity for all of these virtues has widened and deepened as the sea.

I’ve learned that less is more. Less things, especially baby things. He doesn’t need things; he needs me. He needs my patience, my presence. True presence. It’s life changing, to slow down and listen to what a baby is saying. There’s nothing more important. Every need of his I meet, in meeting I meet my own need. I see that in showing up for him, fully present, I show up for myself in ways I never knew before that I was missing.

For once, I’m not living for the future. I know he’ll grow up some day. He’s so little yet already growing so much every day. For once, at least for this year, my resolutions aren’t about doing this or that so that I can become this or that. I want to slow down and savor every moment while my son still fits in my arms. For once, I truly understand and revel in living in and for the now.

It’s true; motherhood changes you. And when you give birth, you birth two: a new life and also a new you. When the slate is blank, suddenly you don’t rush to fill the spaces. You pause to take it in, like a blanket of fresh snow. You burrow and cocoon. And you learn to love the winter. What’s on the other side doesn’t matter anymore. You see how each moment sustains you. And your heart has never been so full.