Though vastly different from each other, seasons change subtly, so quietly that you barely notice until you look up and see bare trees or snow covering the ground.
Last January, my husband had just started a new job. I was a freshman biology teacher, explaining genetics and bioethics to 150 students. I was pregnant and napping most afternoons. I felt eager to raise my own child, instead of others’ children. We had what seems like a million date nights, but all we could do was wonder about our baby and the impending delivery.
And I look up – and we are in a drastically different season. Zach is still working at the same place, but his coworkers feel a little more like a family. His busy season starts now, but it won’t be interrupted by a tiny newborn. And even without all the date nights, I love him for how he steadily guided our family through a somewhat tumultuous year.
I spend my days with our little one, watching her grow and develop. Sometimes the quiet gets to me, but mostly I savor it. I am thankful to be home with her and go on adventures together. I know more teaching will come as she gets older, so we soak in the comfort of being close. There is a little celebration each night when Zach gets home, and we do bath time and books and put Evelyn to bed. By 7:00, we have time to cozy with each other.
Last year, I feared deep down that I would never feel like “myself” again. To my surprise, the pounds came off, and my emotions reached an equilibrium. Once Evie and I made it through the survival-newborn mode, I started to feel creative energy returning. So I spend time writing and building community and reading books and growing. So – quickly before it changes – this season is really, really sweet.