There is a woman named Wanda who is the most amazing massage therapist anywhere. I’m not kidding…. magical healing hands. And even though she is one of my dearest friends (and happens to share a birthday with me – Happy Birthday Piercey!), when she gives me a massage she is always 100% professional. I giggle every time because she gives the same schpeel before and after the massage. The one at the end goes, “Okay Lori, I’m complete. Take your time getting up, I’m just going to step outside and wash my hands.” I love how she doesn’t say, “I’m finished” or “Sorry lady it’s over”, but instead she goes with, “I’m complete.”
I could describe this past year as being happy, full, surprising, tiring, emotional, joyful… But I’ve realized that more than anything, I feel complete. I majored in philosophy and religion because I was searching for the meaning of life. I questioned and analyzed and tried so hard to find the thing that would make me understand my place in the universe. I needed to know my purpose. The only conclusion that ever really made sense was that each of us has to find our own meaning in life. But with that knowledge, I still never found the thing that made me feel centered, that made me stop questioning, that let me feel complete. I was envious of others who knew what their purpose was, and while I dreamed of being a mother someday, I had no way of knowing if that could be THE meaning I was searching for.
I’m happy now, and I have been happy before. The difference is that I feel complete. That doesn’t mean I want to stop growing, but it does feel like I have finally found myself. It means that without even trying, the questions in my mind have settled down. It means that I feel like being a lot more selfless with my birthday wish this year.
Seven years ago on July 2nd, I had just finished my second chemo treatment, and today was the day we shaved my head. I declared to everyone that I did not want to celebrate my birthday. And in fact, several presents sat unopened on our hutch until I decided that Rob and I would share his birthday in October, (which consequently, was the first day I went out in public without a wig). My Mom made each of us a cake, and it was definitely a day of celebration. Last year I spent my 40th birthday in Iowa. My baby was 10 days old, and he had a blocked tear duct. All that mattered to me was making sure he was okay. And that is pretty much all that has mattered since. This year the birthday celebration I was most looking forward to was the one for my son. But Rob still makes sure that we celebrate on my birthday, no matter what. So after a weekend luxuriating at The Cypress Hotel, and some visits with my parents, my husband is downstairs making my dinner of choice (spaghetti and meatballs, with the recipe he merged together from each of our family traditions). Brendan just fell asleep in my arms, and I get to sit here and feel grateful and complete. Before I get lost in sappy blubbering, I need to relay a few important Brendan facts.
First, we had his one year check-up on Friday – he weighs 21 pounds, putting him in the 50th percentile, and he is 31 inches long – putting him in the 90th percentile. This means he is tracking along the same trajectory as the last visit, and explains why his pants are either too short, or too big in the waist.
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Second, our boy took his first steps. He didn’t seem ready – he is still so wobbly, but there were a few kids starting to walk at school, and just for laughs on Friday I said, “Come on Brendan – lets show them how it’s done!”. He stood on his own, and took his first three steps right into his Mama’s arms. His Mama erupted in tears. I can’t explain the tears – they aren’t necessarily happy tears for the milestone, they aren’t necessarily sad tears that he’s growing up – it’s just pure raw emotion watching my son. As usual, Brendan doesn’t like to perform on film, but here is a little taste from Grandma and Grandpa’s house this morning. He still only takes a couple at a time on his own, but when he needs to hold on, his grip on our fingers is getting a little less firm.
While we’re at it, Brendan also realized there was a rocker at Grandma and Grandpa’s house that was just his size. (it used to belong to his Mama):
We spent a lot of time this weekend not being on a schedule – not planning things. And we spent a lot of time around Brendan’s favorite part of the trip – the fountain. It was a great way to start a new year.
