First Year

As I approach––as we all approach––the first anniversary of Colby's passing, a therapist suggested I compare Colby's first year on Earth with mine. It's an interesting concept and was quite an eye opener for me. I had never thought much about my first year. However, as my parents split around the time of my first birthday, I realized for the first time that there could have been a lot of fighting. I know the house we lived in was tiny. How much of the yelling was I able to hear, to process? As an only child, it would have been just my parents and me. I believe my dad traveled, so my mom was also probably often overwhelmed in caring for a newborn by herself. For better or worse I will never know how that all affected me, although I am sure it did. After my dad left my mom and I moved in with my grandmother. My mom lives in that house still today.

Colby's dad, on the other hand, left when Colby was just five weeks old. After that it was just Colby and me, and fortunately for me, other than continual resperatoy infections, Colby was a good baby and a good sleeper. When Colby was six weeks old I found a job. Despite my wanting to stay with Colby during the day we had to eat and have shelter and the only way that would happen was if I worked. So, I placed Colby in the daily care of a wonderful grandmotherly woman who had nine grown children of her own. There was only one other child there, a girl who was about six months older than Colby, so he had someone to play with and watch and learn from during the day. In the evenings he and I did "babycizes" (baby exercises), which were in vogue at the time. Colby had excellent athletic ability and hand/eye coordination throughout his life, so maybe some of those early exercises paid off! We also read in the evenings, as I imagine my mother read to me. Colby and I lived in a mobile home in the country and the home was probably a little larger than the one I lived in my first year.

So, my dad was around my first year, Colby's was not. I stayed at home during the day with my mom while Colby was in the home of an older caregiver. I was not around other babies while Colby had an older child to play with. I probably experienced some fighting. Colby and I led a quiet existence at home.

What this all means, I do not know, but I do know that I will think about it. I am sure most of us rarely, if ever, have tried to visualize what our first year was like. It is an important year that shapes us in many ways. Thinking about those first years has given me empathy for my mother, and also empathy for myself. It is not easy to care for a baby no matter what the circumstances, but I believe every mother does the best she can. I know I did, and then some.