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In September of 2019, my husband Tony and I threw a party at one of our favorite spots called Ellington in the Park, in Riverside Park all the way on Manhattan’s west side. It was just a few blocks away from our then apartment, and right across the way from the dog park where our then tiny puppy Ace would run in circles and dig holes in the dirt, sometimes even catapulting right over much bigger dogs. Ellington in the Park had great beer, great sangria, and great crispy fried calamari.
We planned the party to celebrate two things:
My birthday
Our one-year wedding anniversary
And then, as the party neared, we added two more things to the list:
I got a book deal for my second book
We bought our first home, an apartment in Brooklyn
And there was a fifth thing:
I was pregnant
We decided to tell our friends this last thing at the party, which corresponded more or less with the start of my second trimester. A very few of them already knew, but for most of them my pregnancy was news. I toasted with my bubbly water and gave so, so many hugs. I floated on a sea of friends, love, the 90s music Ellington always played, the whir of the West Side Highway below us, Tony’s hand in mine, and endless possibility.
It seemed like an ecstatic whirlwind, like life was going by so fast and we had so much to celebrate that it was all a little hard to wrap our minds around.
The other day, a year and a half later, as we sat in bed with our baby Simone and a now more grown-up Ace cuddled up at my feet, as Simone climbed us both like some kind of fancy playground equipment and shook her bottle over her head and made all kinds of emphatic baby noises, we started talking about how crazy time was.
Two years ago, we didn’t have Ace, or Simone, or this apartment.
In the last year, Simone was born in a twist of events at the Hunterdon Medical Center, in New Jersey. Tony got a new job, and I wrote a new book. There was a global pandemic that shook the world and our world. The days have felt endless, but the years have gone by in a flash.
Something about having a baby makes me extra aware of the strange passage of time. In those early sleepless, wild, blurry days, I’d time our nursing sessions on an app I later deleted in frustration: 27 minutes, 52 minutes, 70. Sometimes we’d both fall asleep. I’d wake up, and Simone’s little head had slid down to my stomach, the weight of her in my lap, and my app was still counting the minutes (right boob, tick tick tick). Whole days would disappear like that. If I had time to shower, it felt like a small miracle.
Those fourth trimester days feel very, very far away.
Almost a year later, I wouldn’t quite say life feels normal.
I wouldn’t quite say I feel like myself.
Yet.
Or maybe I am changed in a more permanent way.
Time plays so many tricks on me. It feels like Simone was just born yesterday, yet it’s hard to remember the contours of life without her.
“You will sleep again,” I remember a friend telling me, and how that seemed impossible and miraculous.
How much changes in a single year! Simone doubled her birth weight, and then tripled it. She flipped over, first very stubbornly only in one direction. She started to slither like a snake, and now she’s a crawling pro. (She’s very fast. We can’t really leave her for a moment, or she’ll get into the dog food/plants/something else dubious.) When we were in England in wintertime, Jajja was a little frustrated by her remedial eating skills—she was pretty much only interested in squishing food in her fingers and smearing it all over her face. These days, Simone is a great eater (although she still loves squishing food in her fingers and smearing it all over her face.)
I love watching her little personality emerge, her curiosity and stubbornness and joy.
These days, we sleep. Usually, anyway.
In a few weeks, we will have a small birthday party for Simone in Prospect Park.
In this pandemic year, there has been so much we didn’t get a chance to celebrate.
There will be cake, and balloons. Simone will probably eat the grass and the leaves, her favorite park activity these days. Hopefully the sun will be shining.
We are all changed.
Some days, it seems like an ecstatic whirlwind, like life is going by so fast and we have so much to celebrate that it is all a little hard to wrap our minds around.
Other days, it feels like enough just to have made it through the day. I guess that’s something to celebrate, too.
Here we are at our wedding shower in March 2020, the last time we saw a lot of friends and family. Kiara made this gorgeous cake - and she’s making us a cake to celebrate one year of Simone. (It was vanilla cake with rosemary buttercream and orange curd and it was ridiculous.)