My brother and his girlfriend Jane landed in California last Wednesday night and we spent a few days at home before zipping up to Muir Beach for a wedding. It was our first time leaving Sophie for an extended amount of time with anyone other than my mom, and Rob and I had such an amazing time with some of our friends at one of the dreamiest weddings I’ve ever attended.

We rented a sweet little cottage on Airbnb that felt like a treehouse, surrounded by greenery with a big kitchen and little bedrooms. On Saturday we woke up to chilly morning, headed out for a hike through the woods, stopped for really bad coffee at a roadside stand, and returned for a brunch of bacon and eggs and cinnamon rolls. Sophie is a lot more work these days, but also so much more fun than she was the last time Sean and Jane visited us in California—they came for Christmas last year and she was just a snoozy little newborn who slept on us and cried without ceasing almost every evening from 5-9 PM. We didn’t sleep much, but daily down time was abundant.

Sean would stay up late with Rob for the “night shift,” go to bed at 2 or 3 AM, and then wake up early with me at 6:00 for the day. I’d nurse Sophie on the couch as he puttered around in the kitchen, making coffee and toasting sourdough in the oven. It was a challenging season but I knew even as it was happening that I’d look back on it and remember it with a full heart.

The early morning egg sandwiches, late-night beers and episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. How I went to bed at 10:00 on New Year’s Eve and set an alarm for 11:45, stumbled out into the living room where the four of them were parked on the couch, drank half a glass of champagne, kissed my husband and baby, and was back in bed by 12:01. Sophie’s first smile—I think it was January 1st or 2nd. She changed so much every day and by the time we were dropping them off at the airport to catch their flight back to Richmond, she already seemed like a different baby.

And now we’re just a couple page turns of a calendar away from her first birthday, and she says “mama” and “dada” and “nana” and “bubba” and she sings and laughs and eats and claps and waves and stands up and sleeps. Autumn always turns me into a nostalgic puddle of emotions, but this one is especially touching. Last year I was physically slowing down more every day, feeling her roll around inside me every day, moving our things into the house we’d bring her home to, putting the crib together, washing her tiny socks and hats and onesies, feeling all the pre-baby anticipation as we lit fall candles and vacuumed the floor. I cooked and baked and froze everything, packing the freezer full of casseroles and hash browns and Christmas cookies that I knew I’d want but may not be able to make.

Some days it feels like she’s been here forever, but today, on the first of October—the last first month for Sophie—I remember waiting to meet her, my heart and eyes overflowing with those first few notes of Dear Theodosia, sitting quietly in the rocking chair with my morning coffee, imagining what it would be like to hold her in my arms.

“I felt her surging within me,
felt her head nudging
the taut bowstrings of my rotunda,
and felt so grateful that she’d chosen

me.”

— Sonya Sones, "The Hunchback of Neiman Marcus"

Last week was a shit show.

Nothing specific went wrong, it was just one of those weeks where nothing goes quite right. I picked ridiculous fights with Rob, Sophie was more challenging than usual, Ender was a handful, I sat around the house for six hours waiting on a dishwasher repair appointment for a technician who never showed up.

I cried in the kitchen or the nursery or at my desk more than once, more than twice, maybe three or four times. And now I’m sitting on my couch with a blanket and my laptop while my sweet husband goes out to pick up dinner, and Sophie is sleeping upstairs and Ender is curled up by the fireplace, and none of the hard moments even matter anymore—I even had to really think to recall them, only a few days later.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from motherhood so far, it’s that even the tough days don’t last forever, and they’re so far outnumbered and overpowered by the good ones that you’ll have trouble remembering what had you at your wit’s end that one time, and when you finally get the baby to bed you’ll watch her on the monitor and miss her, thinking about all the ways they made you smile.

When they crawl across the room and climb into your lap. Making them laugh over and over with the same fake sneeze sound. Watching them try a new food for the first time and then reach their little hand out for more. The way they sleep with their butt up in the air sometimes.

I drove to the jeweler the other day to get my wedding and engagement rings resized and thought “there’s really no part of me that hasn’t changed.” My feet grew half a size and a lot of my clothes feel like they might belong to someone else when I try to put them on, and apparently my fingers grew, too. But it’s not just my physical body that’s a little different, it’s everything.

The old me would have cut out sugar and carbs and had bone broth for breakfast and tried to get any inflammation down so I could wear my rings again. The new me thinks that yeah, some of that couldn’t hurt but do I really want to be the kind of person who goes on a diet because of jewelry?

Somehow Sophie has been here for 10 months, and I don’t know if I’ve taught her very much yet but she has taught me everything. When to push through and when to let go. To put my phone down more. To savor the good things and do your best to let the annoying ones roll off your back. To get the rings resized so you can enjoy them even if you had a salty dinner.

Happy Monday, everyone. Here’s to a week that’s better than the last one. 

The smell of fresh coffee on a cold morning.

Making a huge pot of chili on a weekend afternoon, football on in the background.

Putting on that first sweater.

Listening to a new song in the car and realizing that it’ll remind you of the changing seasons every fall from now on.

New to me this year: planning a birthday party for my daughter.