As we approach my son’s first birthday, I remember the feelings of being literally one living being— physically inseparable. When the line between my body and his body was blurred. And now, as I hold that precious time close to my heart, I embark on celebrating his independence in this world.

Photo by Susan Baker Photography

I Used to be Your Ocean
My heartbeat, used to be your favorite song.
My heartbeat was with you, all night long.

My blood, used to pump through your veins.
My blood pumped inside of your heart,
And my pulse made your heartbeat start.
My inhale gave you oxygen,
And my exhale gave you life.

I was your ocean, I was your air.
The first thing I felt was your wild hair.
I was your ocean where you were free.
But I knew, in order to meet you,
You would have to leave me.

We walked, we danced, we ate as one.
But you must go... to speak, and dream, and run.

I was your ocean.
Now you are my world.

By Sarah Awad

(Above) Photo Credit to Susan Baker Photography

(Above) Photo Credit to Jackie Wolf

In the early weeks, I remember dancing gently in the shower, as I would always do while pregnant, and I realized that he wasn’t in my tummy anymore. My heart dropped, similarly to when you realize you locked your keys in the car, or forgot your phone at home. How could he not be here?

In the womb, it was so easy to keep him perfectly content. A warm place with all the love, safety, and nutrients he could ever need. But apart from me, he could feel cold, tired, hungry, or wonder where I was.

But they figure it out, and they grow, and get strong. And life here on earth is beautiful, so I can’t keep him all to myself.