Running after childbirth is my act of triumph and reproach towards the idea of childbearing/rearing stealing everything from a woman. I went on the same loop I walked the night I had Sam. This time I ran, powerful and strong, remembering that I year ago, I pumped my pregnant body up and down that hill through contractions--powerful and strong in quiet a different way.
As I ran and watched the sun come up, I thought of the work that brought Sam into his first year of life, and how much stronger it made me. (Thank you Sam, and please stop going down the stairs head-first.)
Some of my favorite things about Sam: how everything he eats goes through his hair first, his bald patches on top of his head from his first and second haircuts given by big brother (whose own hair is too short to cut), how he practices going down any and all stairs head first, and is now very successful at it (Tonight he threw our pillows off our bed and then dove headfirst off our bed onto the pillows), how fast he crawls, how excited he is to see me, or Ryan or the kids, how he can manage to get under the car with a ball faster than I can run after him, and manage to get to the very middle of the underneath so I have to crawl under after him, his ready grin.
Sweet Baby.
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