Happy Birthday, Nostalgia!

I used to think my wedding day was forever going to be the most memorable 24 hours of my life.  Yesterday was my son’s first birthday, and (forgive this hackneyed allusion to the archetypical woman’s life) I can confidently say his birth now ranks most memorable in my temporal lobe.  Memories of a whole new person were initiated a year ago, and even though I sometimes can’t remember what I ate for lunch, October 23, 2011, feels like yesterday.  I wonder if it always will.

So much has happened in the last year, but baby’s birthday is my most cherished memory.  The smell of copal (which we only light on special occasions, like last night) ignites memories from our wedding, but I’m not able to remember the tiny details of that day anymore.  I am glad there does not seem to be a fixed capacity in the brain to store sentimental memories.  I would be tempted to choose reliving the days of being young, falling in love, and meeting my child over practical functions of the brain like walking, and remembering that 841 is one of my favorite non-fiction sections in the library.  There is a lot of pressure in the beliefs I follow to stay in the moment and not to dwell in the past.  But my dreams–a place where I spend 1/3 of my time after all–is made of beautiful and excruciating memories which have made me who I am today.

But on my son’s birthday, I feel justified to dwell on the past.  He hardly appreciated our celebrations and special activities–a trip to the toy store, a walk around a special island, a visit from adopted aunties, and a waffle cone full of mint chocolate cookie, a special dinner.  So I felt happy to accept the day on his behalf, reveling in the sun and the air, not trapped to a bed in a hospital.  Life is so fair, because without a doubt, next year the labors from his birth will be a more distant memory, like how my wedding day is now.  I will always remember the essentials: unyielding physical pressure, sharp seemingly unbearable abdominal cramps, the incomparable relief and overpowering happiness and love, a beating Mexican sun tempered by soft clouds and northern breezes.  I’m glad I will always have my dear husband–and now my sweet child–to remind me of special days, physical proof that we existed in those pictures that simultaneously look like years ago–my baby is now five times the size he was a year ago, and yesterday–I have looked basically the same in pictures since I was 17.

Next year I’ll be happy to plan a real party for my son’s growing memories.  I feel like your first child’s first birthday is for the parent’s nostalgia, and that is what we observed. Happy Birth day, mom and dad, and of course, our sweet son!

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