This first year of Fox’s life, I have been thinking about how I will tell the story to him of bringing him home. How do I tell all the stories of the first year of parenting? What do I choose to leave out and what do I elaborate on, and what do those omissions or inclusions say about me about us-as parents. I think we have great untapped power here. I am not a reporter who can tell it with objectivity, as it really happened, nor would I want to be. A lot of American parents tell it with a sense of martyrdom, mentioning how tired they were and how much work the baby was. Instagram moms tell it with golden moments and polish the stories with filters of perfection. There is a trend of being “authenitic” on social media, kind of sharing your life “as is” without embellishments. One of my highest values is authenticity, and I think this trend falls short too because you are sharing what feels like truth to you, but it’s still curated.

How often have you had a story told about you that was not what you would like to be remembered by? Where someone honed in on a detail that is true but isn’t at all how you remembered it? Someone once told me I “took” from them, but I felt as if they gave to me. Another person told me I abandoned them, and I remembered it as me surviving. I have been told I wasn’t listening, but for me, it feels like I can’t hear. I have been called brave and strong, but I felt tired and afraid. I have been told yellow isn’t my color, but I love wearing it. There’s always another way to see the story. Think of all the Disney villain origin stories that have come out in the last decade. I used to be so afraid of Maleficent, but now that I know they cut off her wings, I understand why she’s so angry.

We stopped by the NICU for Fox’s first birthday, and I was so happy to report that he is super healthy. I love to bring up how good he sleeps and eats and that he hasn’t been to the doctor for anything. One doctor said he would encourage a mom delivering at today 34 weeks, telling her how well we did with that road. Often, the way we tell our story is in comparison to another person’s story or our own idea of how it would/could/should go. For instance, I often say being pregnant was easier than trying to get pregnant. I also say that raising my baby is easier than IVF.

All of this is to say it’s challenging to sum up a year like this with a few words. He IS healthy and smart and funny. He is empathetic and gentle and loves to sleep. He really doesn’t cry that much, and he is very social and friendly. I am slower than I used to be and worse at multi-tasking. Caring for my son takes up a lot of my brain power, which I didn’t understand until I experienced it. I’m impressed with my body and how it has been strong without my giving it very much to work with. I’m blown away by my partner, who constantly affirms me and asks good questions and is patient with how distracted I often am. He provides for us in the classic way by earning a 40-hour work week of wages and health insurance. He plans shops for and cooks our meals, he does dishes laundry and diaper changes, he plays with us and snuggles us and brings us special gifts. It would seem the love language he loves us with is all of them.

We are surrounded by friends and family who are helping us raise Fox. They are checking in on our well-being as well at his. Reflecting on this year, I think we had everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, we needed to be a successful family of 3. I guess what I’m daily is that I don’t see the glass as half full. I see it as overflowing. That’s not how the saying goes, and I understand that, but I’m just grateful beyond measure for my sweet family. The story I’m going to tell is that this year was a dream. Fox is a delightful magical being, and I’m looking forward toask that lies ahead. This feels like a completely uninteresting piece of writing, but I needed to write it.