Finding Food in the Barren Land: 525,600 Minutes

"Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred moments so dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?"
- Lyrics from "Seasons of Love", Rent
How do you measure this time?

One year ago we left our house as a couple, and returned 12 hours later as a family. One year ago.

One year ago dear friends took their time to drive us to another state to pick up our son, because they love us (and love him).

It seems crazy to write that. In so many ways he has just always been here. In reality it has been 12 months, 52 weeks, 8760 hours, 525,600 minutes. Some of those minutes have seemed longer than others... but you'll have that.

That day was much like my wedding day. I remember just snapshots of silly things from my wedding day. Almost like I wasn't really there for it, just looking at the pictures. The day we brought our son home was much the same. I remember cleaning the bathroom for the umteenth time that week, and vacuuming again and again. Checking that his beding was made up just so (knowing it would most likely be a while before he slept in it.)

I remember freaking out because the plane icon on the "track this flight" page had "turned around" (refreshing the page fixed the graphic - but until then I was sure that the plane had turned around just off the west coast of the U.S. and headed back to Seoul.)

I remember wanting to throw up, a lot. And my sweet friend not missing a beat in telling me she would hold my hair back if I needed her too.

I remember the flight attendant coming through customs and seeing us there with all the baby paraphernalia and no baby - and ask if we were waiting for our son and crying tears of joy when we said yes. She told us he was just beautiful.

I remember the frosted glass doors of customs opening and hearing a little guy crying and knowing it was my son - and being right.

I remember changing his diaper for the first time on the back seat of the car, in the dark, because I sure as hell wasn't going to do that for the first time in a nasty rest stop bathroom.

I remember hearing him laugh for the first time when we arrived home, with my Mom. Hearing that sweet sound and knowing we were all going to make it. (That moment is pictured below.)

I remember looking at my friend just before they left us, my eyes huge in fear of being alone (with my husband of course, but still) with this child and her taking me by the shoulders and saying "You can do this. You were made to do this. And you have my cell number if you need it." I knew I could call any time day or night. 'Cause she's great like that.

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes have passed since that day. Measured in moments of laughter and tears, moments of triumph and moments of not so great times. Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes that I wouldn't trade for anything. Minutes of hearing the sweet laughter come from my son, watching him learn to crawl, then walk. Learn the world around him. Watch his devotion to us, knowing we are his just as much as he is ours.