One of the many gifts of three children has been the chance to re-live the newborn phase, each time bringing more wisdom and levity to the experience. The first time turned me inside out. I sometimes imagine how wonderful it would be to re-live that first time with what I know now. It’s a naive little fantasy, but one layered with nostalgia and regret. I’d hold Iole for as many hours as the day holds, and know that everything else –– the cracked nipples and plum-sized blood clots, the endless screaming and uncertainty –– would pass. She’s a teenager now, and as the first in line, I’m still more raw and unsure with her than I am with her siblings. “Every time you do something for the first time, I am doing it for the first time, too,” I often say to her in a plea for her patience and understanding. We can’t go back, but we can reflect on the journey, and move forward as wiser and more compassionate people. Iole is one of my greatest teachers. Happy Birthday, beautiful girl. You light the path.
