Maia Papaya Brings in the Fall

From the category archives:

Letters to Maia

Month Twelve

by Tatiana on February 13, 2010

Dear Maia,

Beautiful.

That is the word that comes to mind whenever I think of you.  And while it is so often a comment on your physical state — your shining, dark eyes, your long, narrow limbs, your perfect round belly — you embody beauty in every way.

Spiritually, you are radiant.  The unadulterated joy in you find in everything humbles us.  You are just as amazed by the little plastic tab from a bread bag as you are by a balloon.  And let me tell you, that’s a lot of amazement; today at the dollar store, we found some mylar balloons and you started squealing, reaching for them, and babbling, nearly tumbling from your Daddy’s arms.  When he gave them to you and set you down, you caressed the mylar and patted it, smiling in your wide-mouthed way, your deep dimple visible only when you peeked around the side of the balloon to make certain we still watched you.  Of course we did.  How could we take our eyes from you?

It’s so hard for me to write this, Maia, because I feel like words are insufficient.  I wish I could distill every bit of delight you bring to our lives and put it into this letter, but it’s like trying to catch a waterfall in a thimble — no matter how hard I try, I won’t succeed.  But I’ll try.

After I zipped up your pajamas tonight, I leaned down and kissed you full on the lips, then smooched your cheeks and neck and chin.  You laughed from deep in your belly in a blissfully helpless way, twisting to and fro as if trying to escape, but your little hands grabbed mine and held on tight.  “You’re going to have a wonderful birthday,” I told you over and over again between kisses, “we love you so much.”

I read your bedtime book, and before I even closed it you were leaning back, mouth open, head turned towards me, wanting to nurse to sleep as you always do.  And usually when you nurse to sleep, I read, but tonight I watched you instead.  I watched the perfect shape of your pink lips, the way the tip of your nose touches my skin, and as your eyes fluttered shut, I felt tears fill my own.  My vision blurred.  I want it to be 1:07am, February 13th, 2010, because I want to know that you have been here every second of a year, that there will never again be a moment in time untouched by you.

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Maia, beauty can be found in happiness and sorrow, joy and bitterness, hope and despair.  You will explore all of these things in your life, and I know that you have the grace of spirit to learn from them — and your father and I will be at your back, waiting to support you when you need us.

We love you so much, papaya.  Thank you for showing us what it truly means to be beautiful.

Love,
Mama & Dada

{ 13 comments }

Month Eleven

by Tatiana on January 13, 2010

Dear Maia,

Today you turn eleven months old, and all I can think is how young that seems.  When I think of you, I think of a kid; when I think of an eleven month old, I think of a baby.  But you’re not.  You walk, talk, interact; you have a distinct personality, you know what you like (and don’t like), you are fiercely independent, and above all, you are fun.  Babies?  They’re definitely not as fun.

You love to dance and clap.  I don’t really like to leave the television if I’m not watching something in particular, but it’s tempting to when I know that any music — fast, slow, awesome or stupid — is going to catch your attention and cause you to start shaking your groove thang.

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This past month has been an exciting one for you, with Grandma visiting, going to see family, and your first Christmas, as well as other fun things like taking Buffy to the vet on Boxing Day (stupid dog) and going to see the Olympic torch pass through our town.  People keep asking me if you “get” Christmas, and if by that they mean do you understand the concept of celebrating Jesus’ birth or Santa Claus bringing presents then, no, you don’t “get” Christmas.  But if they’re really asking whether you had fun celebrating the holiday, then the answer is an emphatic yes.

You enjoyed the Christmas gatherings, and although you were not terribly interested in opening presents (a fact which blows my mind, because if we were to give you a newspaper, you’d spend the next half hour shredding it and squealing with glee), you sure did like them once they were out of the wrapping paper.

DSCN3064By far, your favourite presents were the blocks.  Babcia and Grandma both got you blocks, which is great because you now have enough that, no matter where you go in the house, there will always be a block hiding out somewhere nearby.  Mommy and Daddy are marginally less thrilled at this fact than you are.

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You also love your books (not so much the puppet in the background, obviously).  You were given something like four or five books for Christmas, and you like to bring them to me one at a time to read.  The one you’re holding in this picture, How Do I Love You?(aff) made me cry the first time I read it to you, because it’s so damned sweet.

santa maia 2009I have to say, though, that your favourite part of this month was going to visit Santa.  Not because of Santa himself — you see, in that picture you have your worried face on, your oh shit why are Mommy & Daddy not holding me? face — but because here, you met your soulmate: Man Playing Guitar And Singing.

DSCN3040You stared at this guy for like four or five minutes, Maia, and every time we moved you away you just beelined back to him.  You weren’t interested in dancing or clapping with his music; you simply wanted to watch him in amazement.

Since then, you’ve learned how to point at things that intrigue you, which I’m somewhat grateful you didn’t understand then as you would have pointed at him the whole time, as if we didn’t already know you were interested.  Here at home, you point at things like the floaty balloon that came attached to my birthday flowers, or the dogs, or the mirror, and we show them to you, and you are delighted with the fact that you are communicating with us clearly — or more accurately, you’re delighted that we’re listening.

You really enjoy pointing at the pictures on the walls — they’re pictures of you.  We got them for Daddy for Father’s Day.  I hold you, point at each of the 14 pictures, and describe what is going on in them.  Mostly we giggle together — Maia doesn’t like her hat! is a pretty funny picture, I must admit — but there is one picture that always makes me stop in my tracks, so it’s the last one we look at together.

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I say, “This is brand-new Maia, not even a minute old,” and I start to choke up as I look at you, naked and pink and squinty-eyed, curled up on my chest, your dark hair plastered to your forehead, your perfect little pouty lips, your hand pressed to my skin.  That you were ever so small and new baffles me, and I can’t believe that from that new little creature has sprung this active, sassy toddler.

You are still so exquisitely perfect that it makes my heart hurt, though.  I love every moment of being your Mama better than the last, and we are so lucky to have you in our life.

All our love,
Mama & Daddy.

{ 9 comments }

Month Ten

December 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
Today you turn ten months old, and I must say, I would keep you at this age forever.  You, right now, are more perfect than you’ve ever been, more loving, more playful, and more interactive; our days are filled with smiles and laughter.
The big news this month is that you’ve mastered the art of [...]

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Month Nine

November 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
Today you turn nine months old.  Today is also a Friday the 13th, just like you were born on, and I have to admit that this makes me smile.  Oh sure, I’ve heard a few times that it’s “too bad” you didn’t hold off your arrival for a day so you could be a [...]

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Month Eight

October 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
Nothing makes one so aware of the passage of time as becoming a parent.  As usual, I’ve had a hard time accepting that you’re growing up, and even though I’m typing this at 11pm on the 12th, I still call you my 7 month old.  I can’t believe we’ve been together for so long, [...]

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Month Seven

September 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
Well, the good news is this: you’re not yet walking on your own.  The bad news is this: if I analyze your movements long enough, I become convinced that you actually are.

That video is not long enough to show what you did afterward — one of your favourite new activities, banging on things.  You [...]

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Month Six

August 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
This will go down in history as the month you grew too quickly.  Oh yes.  You see, Mommy just went back to read her Month Five letter to you, where she says such quaint things as “you’ve finally learned how to roll from belly to back” and “you are learning to crawl“.  Haha.  I [...]

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Month Five

July 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
Today you turn five months old, and honestly? seriously? it’s only been five months that you’ve been in our lives?  I find it hard to believe, because I truly cannot recall life before you.
Last month, you learned how to roll over onto your belly; this month, you’ve finally learned how to roll from belly [...]

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Month Four

June 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
Yesterday morning, you got fussy.  I held you close to me, stroked your hair, and kissed your round cheeks.  You didn’t calm, so I turned on some music — Augustana’s “Boston” — and started singing to you.  You calmed, staring at me with those beautiful eyes that shift from brown to hazel inside a [...]

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Month Three

May 13, 2009

Dear Maia,
Today you turn three months old and, unlike the past two months, I don’t feel like the time has flown by; I feel like you’ve been here forever and I can’t believe it’s been ONLY three months.  You are such an integral part of every day — in fact, I’d say that every day [...]

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