father time is a mother effer

Lately I’ve been contemplating the notion of time and its passage.

It could be the imminent end of the year, the closing of yet another decade.

Maybe it’s commemorating 25 years of living without my dad, and a week later, remembering what would have been his 75th birthday. Maybe it’s knowing he died a week before he would have turned 50, as M and I get closer to that age ourselves.

It could be that a certain couple I know just celebrated 20 years together. And they’re not even that old.

Perhaps it’s how time is marked every day by our daughter’s marvelous development. The passage of time is so apparent through the growth of a child.

Maybe it’s all of those things, or something else altogether.

Yes, twenty years ago this week, two young carefree kids spent a weekend together and, without a thought toward their future, enjoyed the present moment in a beautiful way.

M and I just celebrated twenty years together. Two decades. This astounds me. We chose the date for symbolic reasons. It wasn’t the first time we met (which was a few years earlier), or our first date (hell, who even “dated” then? you hung out, hooked up, etc.), or the first time we even had sex (no comment). Yet Christmas Eve 1990 was likely the first time we chose to spend alone together, free from commitments to others, without the presence of friends or family, with intention and without distraction. I was 21 and M had just turned 24. Twenty years. Together. Amazing.

This year I wept as I wrote and read our beautiful cards to each other, reflecting on the passage of time — the good, the bad, the wonderful. While part of me felt, well, ancient, mostly I felt so grateful to have met the love of my life with enough time for us to grow up together. And that we did.

Fourteen years ago, in December 1996, we celebrated M’s 30th birthday, his grad school graduation and new career. We had been married just six months after being together five and a half years. I was 27 years old and we were starting our new life together.

Nine years ago, in December 2001, just I was about to graduate from law school and begin a prestigious fellowship in my field, I was diagnosed with a grapefruit sized mass in my uterus. Just as we began to plan our family, I learned I might never conceive or carry a child. I was 32 as I prepared for the bar and major surgery, uncertain if we would ever become parents as we imagined.

Five years ago, in December 2005, I discovered I was inexplicably pregnant at age 36 after trying more than a year and a half for a baby. After being told by the top RE at one of the best clinics around that I was unlikely to conceive without yet another surgery, I was shocked to be in my second trimester. Sadly our bliss didn’t last long, as complications began soon after. Five weeks into the new year, our son was gone.

Three years ago, in December 2007, I was awaiting my first IVF transfer and hoping against hope that my last chance to have a baby would be successful. I was 38. One night in the midst of that we brought dinner to the hospital to visit the first newborn of my closest cousin. That month I also started this blog, which evolved along with my path to parenthood.

Two years ago yesterday, December 2008, a young woman who had become unexpectedly pregnant asked us the question that forever changed our lives. Until I heard our daughter’s voice, I had never heard words more beautiful than these: I would be honored if you would become the parents of my baby.

This time last year, we celebrated at home with our nearly seven month old baby girl. After extended leave from work to enjoy caring for our daughter, I was dreading returning part time. Yet our arrangement has been pretty awesome. This year M has been stay-at-home dad two days a week, when I go into the office. To add some hours, he works Saturdays, and I work from home two mornings a week with the help of a sitter. We’re doing what we need to do. Baby Jaye gets to enjoy both of us, plus she adores her sitter and asks for her by name often.

This time last year, my mother was at death’s door and we painfully said our goodbyes. Yet a year later, here she is, still, finding strength she never knew she had. Believe it or not, she’s actually planning a small New Year’s Eve gathering at her home. And a trip to Paris in spring. She is not well, mind you. No doubt her disease is terminal and her days are numbered. But she is living, in her dying. And that is inspiring.

This year I am overwhelmed and awed by the passage of time. As I get older I realize how truly lucky I am. I have a wonderful husband and partner. I have a rewarding career, even if I was more than ready to leave it behind awhile. There is much we don’t have, but so much more we do.

At 41 years old I am so grateful for this opportunity to be Mama to this amazing little girl. At nearly 19 months old, she challenges me to slow down and keep up at the same time, to be patient and present, always. She makes me smile and laugh every day. Somehow we are both helping each other grow into the people we are meant to be.

Wishing you all a happy, healthy new year filled with love and laughter, and of course the time to enjoy it. May 2011 bring you closer to your dreams.

Peace out.

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~ by luna on December 27, 2010.

24 Responses to “father time is a mother effer”

  1. Wishing you a peaceful and happy 2011, Luna. Time is such a tough thing…the past few days Ive wanted time to slow down AND speed up at the same time.
    And happy 20 years together–such a great thing to celebrate! xoxo

  2. beautfiul, Luna. Happy new year.

  3. It’s crazy how time seems to go by more quickly as we get older. But then again things that happened 5 years ago, 10 years ago seem so long ago at the same time.

    This was a wonderful recap post 🙂 Happy 20 years together to both of you!

  4. Thanks for that heartfelt post.

  5. What an incredible post! And I love the title – yes, time is a mother alright. I like the way you celebrate and commemorate the years, for better and for worse. I was just saying to hubby that sometimes I wish I was 10 years younger, just so I can have 10 more years to enjoy with my son. If I knew then what I know now….

  6. Happy anniversary, happy holidays & happy 2011, Luna! : )

  7. Your timeline is one of love and resilience. I’m so glad you and I will be in touch in 2011 as we have been in the last several years. Maybe even in person, if we can swing it.

    XO

  8. Time is good and time is bad. Sometimes it heals other times it wounds. Yet, it is always precious…Happy New Year.

  9. d

  10. Came across your site while reading adoption blogs and wow, what a powerful post. It never ceases to amaze me how much the passage of time seemed to change once children entered my life. My husband and I will be celebrating our 20th anniversary in January, and I can’t quite understand where the time went. I blinked and 20 years passed. I try not to blink again in worry that my girls will be grown and married themselves. Time, oh time.

    Have a Happy Anniversary!

  11. Happy anniversary, blogoversary, and thanks for being here. Beautiful post.

  12. Happy New Year, Happy Anniversary, blogoversary and everything else.

  13. You are the blogger who got me reading and writing again, inspiring me to seek community and share my own story. Thanks, as always, for sharing yours, and for the inspiration. A very happy new year to you and your family, Luna!

  14. Paris, amazing.

    Happy Anniversary, and a very Happy New Year, Luna.

  15. Wow, beautiful post, Luna. So many ups and so many downs with a constant of one strong woman always plugging along. Many hugs and best wishes for 2011.

  16. Congratulations to both you and M! The way in which you’ve weathered the storms of the past 20 years is a real testimony to your strength both as a couple and as individuals. May your love for each other, and for Baby Jaye, continue to grow and develop over the next twenty years.

    Wishing you peace and every happiness for 2011.

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