nostalgia isn't always good

I'm really not that good at keeping up a blog, even though I really want to.  And I already have a blog that I used to write in - the one my husband created in Drupal for our family.  But as much as I feel like a traitor to be blogging here (sorry, Drupal...), I find that sometimes, I need my own space.  Maybe some place where I can mess with the template, depending on my mood.  Maybe some place, that's more... anonymous, as no one knows I'm blogging here.  Anyway.  As tomorrow is my daughter's first birthday, I felt the urge to "vent" somewhere.

I find myself in less than excited mood today.  It seems like I should be literally bubbling up inside, with excitement and joy of seeing my daughter grow up, turning one year old.  364 days have gone by since she came out into this world, into our family.  And for some reason, I'm just not excited.  All I want to do is curl up and cry.  Which makes me feel like a bad mother.  ::sigh::

Kris thinks maybe it's me worrying about time flying by too fast?  Maybe.  It really has flown by fast.  Every day, when Alaise does something new...  Or something cute...  Pretty much anything, really -- even simple smiles just don't get old -- my heart bursts with joy.  But tomorrow, I'm dreading tomorrow.  I don't know why.

And as I re-visit last year's ordeal, anxiety grows.  My delivery experience was less than desirable, and sometimes, visiting the past fills me with tainted color of some sort...  Somehow it pollutes everything.  I think it's creeping into what should be a joyous occasion for me, tainting it with anxiety and dread.  What bothers me more sometimes is the fact that I can't remember a lot of it.  I always have to ask Kris what happened, and if he can't remember, well, it's a hole in my memory.

It's bedtime, and I still have soup cooking on the stove.  I'm making seaweed soup for tomorrow, to make sure Alaise gets to eat a piece of my tradition to celebrate her first birthday.  After eating the soup at the hospital, it really does mean a lot more to me.  It's the soup that gave me comfort & nourishment, and it's the soup that gave my mother comfort & nourishment after she had me.  So we'll eat seaweed soup tomorrow, and celebrate the day she came into our arms.  And hopefully, I won't break down in tears as I watch her get her first taste of my soup.