I remember this time a year ago. I was so excited to meet my little girl. I wondered if she would be born on April 1st, her anticipated due date, or if she would make us wait it out. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t been born yet, I was certain she would have been early like her big sister Georgia, who was one week early. But Raquel had her day already picked. She arrived on April 2nd, in the morning, which was a Friday. I find it interesting that all three of my kids were born on Fridays and each one came in between meals (insert my big smiley face here).
She put me through just a tad more pain than the other two, which isn’t saying much because my labors and deliveries have all been quick, easy, and manageable in the pain department. I have been very lucky to not have had to beg for, as I envisioned I would have, to the doctor and nurses for pain management or epidurals (though with her I did cry out “Help me! Help me! Help me!” and am still a tad embarrassed about that Dr. K)
Raquel (we call her Rocky) was named after my grandmother on my dad’s side. My grandmother was someone who I was not only separated from by distance but also language. She lived in Mexico City, where my dad is from, and would come to see us as often as she could as we grew up. She had a great sense of humor and a strong faith in God. She had very little materially but yet she had everything. I remember her smile.
One of my fondest memories of my grandmother was when she came with us to Disneyland one year. I must have been five or six years old and she agreed to ride with me on Space Mountain. I had never been on that ride before and I practically broke off her arm as I clinged to her in fear. When we got off the ride I remember her shaking her arm and saying something like, “Ay! Dios mio!”
Naming Rocky after my grandmother took a bit of a leap of faith on my part because I was worried about how my mother would feel. My dad had just left her and I was worried that she wouldn’t love the baby as much if she reminded her of his mom. I worried that somehow she would feel sad. We broke tradition and told my mom the name we had chosen before the baby was born. My mother, the amazing woman she is, simply said “It is a beautiful name, and I wouldn’t dream of loving her any less because of it”.
My baby is one on Saturday. I am in shock over how quickly the year has passed. She is officially “toddling” and as a new walker is getting better and better at crossing the room in the blink of an eye without tripping, falling, or putting her arms up in the air for balance. Yes, thanks to her we officially must keep the toilet seats down at all times, especially if someone was “letting it mellow”.
I am so glad I have her and yet as I reflect on this past year of my life, I’m amazed that it has been wrought with an intensity that at times has felt as though I might not survive. Had it not been for my bright-eyed Rocky looking up at me with those big hazel-ish eyes, eyes rimmed with some of the longest lashes I have ever seen, I might not have made it. But she, as well as my other two gems, my husband, and a few other key people, kept me afloat through the crushing waves of post partum depression.
We are gearing up for a family party for our little gal on Saturday and we can’t wait to see what she does with a cake for the first time. She’s been keeping us laughing with the sweet little things she does as she continues to discover the world around her.
My breastfeeding days are numbered now as she is drinking cow’s milk and eating solid foods. I’ve cherished nursing as long as I have because with my other two girls I was only able to nurse them until they were 7-8 months. I can’t believe that a year has gone by and my little one is getting bigger. Just yesterday I got a little sad putting away her 6-month sized clothing in a box and pulling out the 9-12 month stuff.
When she arrived she was perfect to me. An angel. She melted my heart then and she continues to melt my heart on a daily basis. Just today she gave me a hug; she laid her head down on my shoulder and then looked up at me. It was the sweetest hug she has ever given me. I made a big deal about it and then my other two daughters came up and hugged me too. It made my day.
I look forward to more hugs from my daughters, more birthdays, and much more laughter. We are coming into our own having had to quickly learn how to go from playing “Man to Man” to “Zone”. And although some days it can feel like two steps forward, two steps back, we wouldn’t have it any other way. We are loving our little party of five.
Happy Birthday Mija!
Here’s a little video of Rocky taken by our good friend Caro. Who knew ripping paper in the baby world is a really big deal?