They have a saying here in France, when you have a boy and a girl, “Le choix du roi,” the choice of a king. During the middle ages, a King needed a son to pass on the crown and a daughter to extend the lands and power of the kingdom through marriage. Therefore, to have both a son and daughter was ideal. As a peasant, I am honored to have been gifted the choice kings. We are so rich, for a healthy baby. He was born one month ago, in a pool of water at my mid-wife's home, with the help of his father who caught him. His arrival onto earth was magical.
His gender was a surprise, we had wanted it that way; but I knew all along he was him. His name is Anthéor. We named him after a pristine place on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea near where we have some of our apiaries over winter. Jorris and I have fond memories of this wondrous place where earlier in our relationship as young wwoofers we’d spend weekends working on the apiaries of our wwoof host Philippe and camped in the J9 (camping car) with a most spectacular view of the sea. Now we have our own hives there and hope to share these memories, which happened what feels like so many moons ago, with our son Anthéor one day.
We love the way the name sounds too, like a strong knight, courageous and honorable. So far, Anthéor lives up to the strength implied by his name. He kicks his legs and pushes himself on our arms to get up over our shoulders in the position he likes while making a squirmy-cute determined sound. Sometimes, he even stands on our thighs when we hold him upwards. He doesn’t cry very much, only when he is very hungry or wet and cold. He has a calm and sweet spirit. He smiles a lot and often. They tell me the smiles are just tics and he doesn’t know yet why he does them, but I disagree. My son smiles because he is just a happy baby.
It’s that smile that rekindles my own spirit, one easily bogged down by the combination of sleep-deprivation and the everyday to-dos of caring for another little one and household. Thankfully, Roua, who is one and a half years old, is a great big sister. She adores her brother, caresses him gently and brings him his blanket. She has moments of being clingy towards me, mostly before bedtime, but other than that, she hasn’t shown much signs of jealousy. Watching her interact with him is the most joyful thing to witness.
Anthéor lives up to the chivalrous nature a knight’s name as well, having waited for Mom to celebrate her birthday and have a Thanksgiving meal the next day before coming. I’m sure that nourishing meal shared in fellowship powered me up for birthing him. I had contractions during my birthday Friday, while vintage shopping with the family, and then throughout dinner and movie that night with Jorris, into Thanksgiving lunch the next day Saturday, then the real work began and early the next morning on Sunday he was born. My Mom tells me that I too waited for her to have a last giant Thanksgiving meal at my grandma’s house before I came.
I wonder if babies are just as nervous and excited as we are when they are about to be born. I imagine so. Imagine diving into a completely unknown world! If my theory is correct, Anthéor is courageous because towards the end few hours of labor, Jorris and I felt him kicking and wiggling about inside, like he was also working to find his way out, brave and ready to see the world that awaited him. I felt like he helped me in a way.
As we come near to the end of another year, I am feeling reflective. November alone offered us so many opportunities to celebrate. The birth of our son Anthéor, my 33rd birthday, the 9th anniversary of this blog, a Thanksgiving meal of our dreams with my American bestie from New York Hilary and her family...the last date night for Jorris and I, at least for the next few years.
I’m not one for resolutions, but if I have one wish for the new year; it’s to remember how rich we are even in the most challenging moments of parenting when it can be so damn hard to see the kingdom we get to live in, with nature, the bees, a garden, people to call family and friends. I wish to continue cultivating that loving-kindness and patience towards myself and my family, everyday. I wish to be present and remember to enjoy my babies and my husband and garden and home even if there is a pile of dirty laundry on the floor and last night’s dinner dishes in the sink. I wish to choose not to let those little things bother me. It’s ok. There will always be dirty laundry and dishes, but my babies will be babies only for a short time. I want to look back on these baby years when they are 20 and remember us having fun with them rather than complaining about not sleeping enough or eating cold food, or not showering or not having time to do those other things etc. Because I know that by then, I’ll be wishing they were little again so I could hold them as I did when they were babies. So, here’s to savoring these moments gone by too fast. Santé to you and yours. Happy New Year. Thank you for being here, always.
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