independence day in more ways than one

Fourth Of July is one of my favorite holidays. Although I'm only HALF American, I take that half pretty seriously, hence why I love celebrating this wonderfully privileged country -- and I don't take for granted that I get to live here and raise my family here thanks to the brave men and women who have made it possible.

There's just something about a SUMMER holiday. Fourth of July is really the only one! Right smack dab in the middle of the magical season of summertime. I think that's another reason why I look forward to this day....the buzz of people making plans, the patriotic outfits, the firecrackers and sparklers and bubbles and sprinklers and sidewalk chalk, the full pools, full grills, and full hearts. It's just so perfect!!! I admit, this year I planned coordinating family outfits and stocked up on bomb pops and snagged a red & white checked table cloth for the brunch we're hosting. My husband rolls his eyes. But whateverrrrr.

July 4th, 2013

This day also represents a lot to me personally - a nod to my own evolving independence as a woman. It's been a day that embodies the elements of feel-good summer with the feeling that all holidays from then on will be different. It's a day that's found me celebrating my country with my family, anxiously waiting on the cusp of something new.

In 2013, July 4th was the last holiday Ben and I spent together with different last names. Our wedding was one week later. I distinctly remember holding onto that day -- cherishing it. Going home after fireworks and staying up late with my sisters...talking and laughing...knowing in the back of my mind those sweet sister hangs on the third floor would soon come to an end. I remember driving around in the back of my parents' van, holding Ben's hand and thinking ONE WEEK ONE WEEK ONE WEEK ONE WEEK until we're married. I remember getting giddy about all my holidays forevermore starting and ending with him. I remember wondering what traditions we'd start and where we'd celebrate in the years to come and who we'd be when we got there. In a way, that slow day off work from my 9-5 job to eat hotdogs and make memories was my last hoorah before giving up independence as Destiny Morrow to become Destiny Rothwell -- a woman who would live with, learn from, look to, and love someone else with her whole heart. I was on the cusp of the rest of my life, my happily ever after, my love story climax.

Fast forward to 2017. Five years later and July 4th somehow managed to be that same "final" holiday before life as we know it would change for good. I was 37 weeks pregnant. I woke up that day with the palpable feeling that this was it. Our last holiday before our baby would forever be part of the festivities. It was a FULL day -- made perfect by things we love with the people we love most. We had an early family breakfast with my Dad's homemade waffles then hit the road to Richmond where the lot of us (19.5 to be exact - because Darcie made 20!!!) took over the tiny Nordstrom coffee shop at the mall before shopping sales and getting Mexican food at our favorite tex-mex place. I remember I wore the only sandals that still fit my swollen feet. I remember I SAT on a mannequin platform at H&M while my sisters tried on clothes because why did we walk the mall in its entirety and just why would I be in need of any new clothes with this belly? I remember being so uncomfortable, but SO HAPPY. Like, so happy. Maybe the chips and salsa had something to do with that -- and my favorite faces shoveling them down so fast the poor table server couldn't keep up. We headed back to my sister's house and next up was (not quite legal...?) fireworks and sparklers (next up for me was BEDTIME, but I'm never one to bust a party so I had to put my game face on). I was so exhausted and my feet and back and everything ached so badly that I literally couldn't stomach the thought of standing in the cul-de-sac and hollering at the boys to "take cover" or watching the kids' eyes light up with every "pop." So Ben kindly opened the trunk to my sister's minivan and I tried to lounge back there and still see everything and "be present", but I couldn't make my awkward body work right and the baby's foot was in my ribs and blah blah blah I finally told Ben to just take me home.

July 4th, 2017

I may have drawn a hot bath the MOMENT I walked through the door. And I may have been legitimately shocked that my feet could actually get that fat. Yes, July Fourth may have been the day I REALLY realized I was super pregnant. That night while soaking in the tub, all I could do was dream about next year...actually having this baby with us...not being pregnant...not falling asleep to the pops of firecrackers in the truck of a car with a spare tire jutting into my back. It was my last holiday without kids. The last time it would just be me and Ben. The last time there wouldn't be a third Rothwell -- a mini American experiencing the magic of holidays. I had that feeling again. Like I was on the cusp of change that would change me. Like I was letting independence slip through my fingers. As if my existence wouldn't just be about me anymore. And I knew I was about to do that surrender thing again...surrendering Destiny Rothwell to become mama. Twenty-three days later, I did just that.

Today is July Fourth again...2018. One year after the non-shopping-trip-with-Mexican-food-that-gave me-indigestion-best-day-ever. With this one in the books, we've officially celebrated EVERY holiday with our Darcie James. I kinda want to congratulate her for living to see all the special days that she'll one day understand and appreciate. Life with her is better than all the best holidays combined. It's been SO fun adding her to every celebration. Who am I kidding, she MAKES every celebration. Each one a little better than the last. Each one holding such irreplaceable memories that I feel a little like I did on July Fourths past...like everything I know is changing, shifting, fading. Like this day inevitably forces me to hang on a little tighter -- my thumb not able to catch the corner of the page before it turns on today and tomorrow's header will be a whole new chapter. And right now, I just want to truly saturate myself in the moments before they're relegated to live on in my memories. Today was just too sweet.

July 4th, 2018

Her laugh-squeals when we toss her up in the pool or the surprise-turned-to-pride when she slaps the water with her palms and it splashes up onto her sunscreen streaked cheeks. Or the frustration that no matter how many times we say "no", she will. not. stop. biting. the. pool. noodle. Her determination as she kicks her little legs to get as close to me as possible. The way she crosses her chubby ankles when lounging in her floaty. Or the uncoordinated wave to her dad at the grill while she lives her best life in the pool. The cuddles after swimming because she missed her nap but won't miss any of the action, daggonit. That summer smell of sunscreen on her soft baby skin...me breathing it in deeply every time I pick her up. Her cute belly poking out of her outfit...and those bare feet that I kiss probably 50 times a day. Or the way she polishes off a whole hotdog and then some watermelon and sliced cheese...and chugs down la croix from a straw because she's fancy like that. The crawling and cruising and exploring...and my anxiety when she finds yet another small object to put into her mouth. Her babbles from the backseat and her fake "coughs" because she's figured out that whenever she coughs, we look at her promptly. Her tight squeezes whenever we ask for them or the way she smiles and puts her hand on her mouth to blow kisses literally every time she sees me and Ben kiss.

In 23 days, her first year will come to a close...she's checked off the big stuff and ready to move on to toddler-hood. And mama ain't ready. I feel that word surfacing again: independence. But this time from her. And it comes out of nowhere. With no warning of attack. For the past 12 months,  I've been everything possible for a tiny human who is absolutely dependent on me. I've spent so long conceding my own independent identity that I didn't think I'd come face to face with the term again so soon. But here it comes....independence...charging in like the early Americans fighting for freedom. She'll fight for hers. And I will have to relinquish it slowly but surely. And yet, as a mom, I know I will always battle for her. Advocate for her. Be dependable for her. She'll find her voice, her place, her light. And I will be there to make sure they never go unnoticed. To make sure they light up like fireworks and resound like the shot heard around the world.


Goodbye, July 4th...until next year.