This time the first belongs to me: my first written words in the nugget's baby book. It comes at his 10 month birthday, or at least just a few days after, which seems an embarassingly late time to start such a journal, but I suppose it is better late than never.
I bought Nikki McClure's wonderful baby journal - The First 1000 Days - in the last weeks of my pregnancy, certain that I would diligently record and write and daydream and wish. I loved it then and I love it now because it is very unbaby - no elephants or rattles or pale blue ducks in sight. Her baby inspired paper cut-outs are each a piece of art - worthy of being hung on the wall. So it is beautiful and inspiring, and still it sat for 10 months. Often I glanced at it sitting amongst the other unread books on my desk and longed for just an hour - of quiet, uninterrupted time to simply record every small detail that my fuzzy milk-brain would allow me to remember. But that hour never came.
In my defense or at least justification to myself, this blog has become my place to record and recollect, but I realize that this is my place, my story, not his. During our trip to Denver two weeks ago, my diligent scrap-booking friend provided the nudge I needed. Though she too did the scrapbooks for her babies as a cathartic process for herself, the end result is that her 5 year old nugget loves to look back through his. For it is indeed, a book all about him.
Luckily, I still have around 700 days that I can record in this lovely journal, which leaves me with plenty to share.