Women sometimes have baby birthday meltdowns

It's Joe Joe's birthday. See? I can barely type that. I had a meltdown yesterday. Yes, it's true. Calm, cool, collected moi melted down like an ice cream cat cake on a hot tin roof. (Hey, I didn't sleep last night so it's the best I could come up with.) Other factors played into it of course, but when I started warbling about my son and his birfday mid-meltdown I knew I was in the throes of baby birthday angst.

It happened last year, too. Out of the blue I was sobbing and snapping at my family for not getting their butts out of their rooms to wish Joe a proper birthday. For not getting excited about watching Joe open his present. For not caring. For not feeling the magnitude of the magnocity of this day. Now did they care? Probably. Did that stop me from snapping like a twig? Nope. I didn't see it coming and was not prepared for it. My baby. ONE YEAR OLD. Joe Joe's birth was at that point the most significant event of my life. My love for my little Joseph Hunter brought me to my knees and made me feel fearful and powerless. I held my heart in my arms and looked down at him and told him that my life no longer belonged to me, that it belonged to him. I know now that that was a silly thing to say, but it's the way I felt at the time. I love him so much it rips me up inside.

Now he is TWO YEARS OLD. My baby boy. My beautiful, bright, curious and silly boy. My boy who will put Lily's binky back in her mouth after she drops it, then rock her in her bouncy chair. The boy who will hug for no reason, but not on command. The boy who sometimes refuses to look at you when you're talking to him but who takes in everything you say, as well as what you don't say. He is so sensitive, I just want to hold him and love him and keep the world at bay with curses and a torch. I know what's out there.

I'm going to go now and leave you with a poem that expresses how I feel. I'm crying again and all poofy and wet and I want to get myself together so I can be cheerful when Joe wakes up.

The Vow
By Carol Lynn Pearson

How could I hide you
From hate?
I would,
Though my arms break
With the trying.

Life leans in
At the window there,
With its bag
Of dark treasures
Trying for your eyes—
So utterly open,
so unaware.

You will see
Men smile over blood,
And you will know
There is hate.
You may see bombs
And butcheries,
And you will know
There is horror.

Against all this
What can I do?
Only vow
That before you
Leave my arms,
You will know
Past ever doubting
That there is
Love, too.

I love you Joseph Hunter.