What is it about our “first” of anything?
They linger for years.
We never really let go of first kisses, our first dance, the first time we disappointed our parents or even the first time we know we made them really proud. We hold dearly to the feelings of acceptance from the first teacher who believed in us, or the first best friend who stood up for us. First death, birth, marriage, and even divorce are all tucked away in our heart. The hard thing about “firsts”, are that they set the bar for everything else that follows, good or bad.
There are a few firsts that really stick out in my mind, like my first car or my first apartment. I’ll never forget the elation of my first publication or the relief of crossing the finish line at my first half-marathon.
But most of all, I am proud to be the mother of my first-born.
The Tortoise made my whole life a series of “firsts”.
First “I love you’s”.
I wish I had documented everything, captured more than just a memory. Because even though the next four years will be another series of amazing firsts, things like first dances, first cars, first boyfriends and broken hearts, the one first I most wish to have back is the first time I held my first-born.