In 2025, our daughter Gigi turned one. Youna wanted to do something Korean for the occasion.
I’ll be honest: before this, I thought a first birthday was just a party with a smashed cake and a lot of people cooing over a baby who has no idea what’s happening.
In Korea, it’s older than that.
What is Dol?
Dol (돌) is the Korean first birthday celebration. It dates back centuries to a time when infant mortality was high, and surviving the first year was a genuine milestone worth marking publicly.
The ceremony centres on Doljabi — placing a table of objects in front of the baby and watching what they reach for. Each item is said to predict the child’s future:
- Thread → long life
- Rice → abundance and prosperity
- Money → wealth
- Books → scholarly success
- A pencil → a life in the arts or writing
It’s charming. It’s also a community ritual that acknowledges a simple truth: making it through the first year is an achievement.
What the West misses
Australian first birthdays tend to be about the parents surviving the year. “We made it!” — and fair enough, it’s exhausting. But the Korean approach is different. It’s not “we survived.” It’s “you’re here, and we’re celebrating you.”
There’s no right or wrong. But in the quiet aftermath of Gigi’s first year — the sleep deprivation, the worry, the moments when nothing felt certain — I found the Korean framing more comforting. It’s not about endurance. It’s about arrival.
Weaving in our own traditions
We don’t do Dol exactly. Gigi won’t be reaching for thread or rice — though we did put a tiny book on the table, because we’re predictable like that.
What we borrowed is the intention. The first year isn’t just a blur. It’s something you mark, you celebrate, you remember. The objects you wrap around baby, the things you use every day — a handkercheih, a blanket, the soft things that touched their face on hard mornings — they matter.
They’re the small things that held the big things together.
Baby Jisoo handkerchiefs. Made for the first year and everything after. Shop on Amazon.