Baby milestones often become our primary focus. When did baby start sleeping through the night? (Still waiting!) When did she roll over? When was her first real smile (not that fake-out I’m peeing! smile), first steps, first word?
I think we, as parents, forget to celebrate our own milestones. First outing together with the dog, working the damned stroller by yourself on the icy sidewalk down a slope only a few days post C-section, getting more than half a block without freaking out and turning tail. First time going to a restaurant with her to meet up with a friend for lunch and not having to spend the whole meal rocking the stroller with your foot because you knew she would be okay playing with her toys. First major blow-out outside the house, necessitating a complete costume change in the trunk of the car in the parking lot of a pet-boarding facility.
What about the first time you nursed her outside of the house, without your fancy breastfeeding pillow, in the cramped confines of the car in the parking lot of a Denny’s? First time you nursed her out in public, with people wandering by you while she flailed her hands and legs, threatening to expose you at any moment? First time you took her on the train, or on the bus, and things were okay—really and truly okay?
The baby gets a lot of credit. Let’s not forget to pat ourselves on the back once in a while, too.