This is not a 4th of July post

A reflection on my youngest's birthday

Photo of me nursing my youngest, Oren, as a newborn; by Jessica Manns Photography

---

My sweet second little turns two today! There's a lot I could say about him being born on this day, specifically, and my feelings about this national “holiday,” but this post is not going to be about that. Instead, I want to reflect on this beautiful being and the gift he is to me and our family.

When I had my son, Oren, two years ago, I had been labouring for a bit longer than I expected. There were no complications, and I'd had a really relaxed and smooth birthing experience with my first, so I was feeling generally calm and prepared; but the labour itself ended up being more intense than the first time around, and since it had started the night before as I was winding down for bed, I was tired and ready to be done.

I had agreed to a cervical check three or four times since arriving, and I was at a “stretchy 7 cm” for hours. After taking an early morning nap (with the help of a painkiller) and eating breakfast, I laboured another few hours, and then my water broke, and our little firecracker burst into the world about 15-20 minutes later, at 12:56 pm.

---

Photo of me holding my son in the hospital shortly after he was born

---

I was quietly terrified to learn I would be giving birth to a biologically male child. I had some really intense fears of raising someone with an immense amount of (white, male) privilege who might decide to use it to harm others, and trauma from being abused by my own older male sibling - as well as simply growing up afab in the patriarchy.

But like with my daughter and my fears about her, I've found a lot of healing since the birth of my son. Despite there still being *gestures vaguely at everything* to worry about, I have a kind of peace I didn't expect.

I think part of me will always be afraid on some level of things that are out of my control, but I've realized that my children are naturally incredible beings, and that my work as their parent is largely to recognize, honour, and nurture every beautiful part of them so that they will learn to do that for themselves and others.

---

Oren's first birthday; a very small sunshine-themed family celebration

---

I call Oren my sunshine (his sister Sybil is my rainbow), which is apropos, as he has brought so much light to our lives and has also helped illuminate so much within myself.

Since becoming pregnant with him, I have discovered my ADHD and autism, got deeply burnt out and recovered, realized I'm non-binary, found community in unexpected places, tapped into old and new special interests, learned more about how I want to live and show up in the world and how to care for myself better, and felt more joyful and at peace than I generally have in my entire life.

All of this has mostly been a result of reflecting on the kind of parent I want to be, the kind of children I hope to raise, and the kind of world I want to raise them in, and knowing that in order to create an environment to support those wishes, I needed to understand myself better. I've been on this journey since I had our eldest, and I think having our second just accelerated that process - in large part because it disrupted what comfortability and routines I'd had, and challenged me in newer and deeper ways I didn't expect.

---

Oren, wearing my first knitted object (a rust-coloured hat) and smiling at his dad/my husband in our back yard

---

I feel like I have done as much growing as my children have these last handful of years, and one of the greatest joys of my life has been discovering things alongside them, and getting to know who they are.

Oren is really adventurous and sensory-seeking, and very snuggly. He loves eating, nursing, and playing outside and in the water. He was quick to reach movement milestones and has been slower with speech. His default settings seem to be either contentment and delight or utter devastation over all things great and small. In short: he's wonderful.

---

Oren showing me the rock he found in our back yard

---

Given my experience with burnout for most of last year (and our move during/after his pregnancy), I'd been struggling with not being able to savour as much of this time as I had hoped, due to being stuck in survival mode.

I'm grateful to have gotten the information and support I needed to get back to a point of homeostasis and to begin being more present and able to enjoy this fast-moving time.

Writing, of course, has been part of this process for the last couple of months, and I wrote this poem during

Kaitlin Curtice

’s Poem-A-Day in May about an early morning moment with Oren that I was so happy to be capable of relishing:

---

On a bright spring morning,

when the days are warm enough

for the heat to be off,

I wake to the lingering cool air of night,

and pull your tiny body closer.

I inhale your lingering scent of baby softness,

and plant kisses on your sleeping face.

I take in this lingering moment,

and I wait for the birds to sing you awake.

I latch onto this memory

the same way you latch onto my breast,

begging it to linger,

sustained by its sweetness.

---

Oren smiling while getting some milk

---

Today, we will be celebrating at home, just the four (six, really - including our dog and cat) of us. The theme is Taco Twosday because we all enjoy taco salad, and I love a pun. We'll give Oren a couple of gifts that will hopefully satisfy some of his sensory cravings, and we'll finish the day with strawberry shortcake and snuggles. I'm not going to stress over entertaining, and we're just going to enjoy being home together. The plan is to let it be whatever it is and whatever we need it to be.

My husband and me holding our kids and smiling knowingly at each other during Oren's newborn session; taken by Jessica Manns Photography

---

I hope this day is exactly what you need it to be. I hope we can all find joy and liberation and peace outside of the confines of capitalism and white supremacy and the cisheteropatriarchy, and experience true freedom. I hope you have a day - a life, really - as wonderful as my sweet little two-year-old.

---