Daydreaming
Looking at next year and what it could bring
Today is the second day I’ve left my house in over a week. Our home was hit with some cocktail of the illnesses that seem to be ubiquitous among families with small children in NY right now. We ticked so many symptom boxes that it was impossible to self-diagnose. As someone who is decidedly not a homebody, staying home for days at a time was hard. Yesterday when I walked out into the cold air, clear light, and winter sun I was reminded of the first time I took my eldest out for a walk after giving birth to her.
In the first weeks postpartum my world folded in on itself. Our home cocooned us and the universe shrunk even smaller than the walls of my apartment to just the warmth shared between my husband, my baby and me. I don’t think I looked beyond her tiny face for over a week, my field of vision limited to the distance between her searching eyes and mine. Newborns can see a parent’s face fairly well from their place in their arms, and their peripheral vision is well developed. My baby and I matched each other’s gaze as we studied each other in those early days, but my peripheral vision fell away. The details of her ears, the tiny soft hairs on her forehead and shoulders, the color of her eyes are sharp even in my memory, but the world around is a watercolor. Light, color, and motion blurred beyond recognition.
Our first walk together, I was surprised at how big the world seemed. Distances felt exaggerated. Every step a giant’s as we ambled down our block and away from the protection of our nest. The air was similarly crisp and clear. Nothing between us and the corner, the next block, the avenue.
New years feel a bit like this to me, too. A new beginning with fresh perspective and milestones clearly visible ahead. At a distance, but unobstructed yet by the messiness of life, and especially life with children. The calendar is filling up, sure, but it feels straightforward and even exciting. It doesn’t show the nights we won’t sleep because of someone’s nightmare or teething pain or need for cuddles, the colds that will throw weeks at a time into chaos, the added labor of class parenting, or the students who will surely need extensions beyond the end of the semester. Right now anything feels possible.
As such, I’m allowing myself to dream and dream big. I’m imagining what my life could look like, and what turns my work may take. I’d like to invite you to dream with me. Tell me, what would you like to see in this space? On my Instagram, if you follow me there? I’m kicking around all kinds of ideas, from ways to include other voices to ways to access more of my own ideas.
I’m still building out some classes and guides. Right now there are several available for purchase: All About Your Newborn, Sleep in the Fourth Trimester, All About Baby, Sleep in the First Year and the free minicourse on Multicultural Parenting. What else would you want available for yourself or others?
I can’t promise that I can make your wishes a reality quickly or even ever. But I can take them with me into my own dreaming. Who knows what the year may bring? A lot can happen in 365 days. Just one look at photos of my kids from a year ago and I’m reminded of this.
Leave a comment here or on Instagram. Or message me privately. I’m listening.
Wishing you all peaceful, healthy, and joyful endings and beginnings.
Melina
