Month Four

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 ring of that dark slate gray you came to us with.  And as I sang of self-discovery and needing to move on in life, I started to cry.  This all will change, someday, when you don’t want to be held and sung to.

But you know what, my little love? Someday, we’ll be holding hands, singing, and dancing.  Someday, you’ll be lying in bed sick and sleepy, and I’ll stroke your brow while singing you to sleep.  Someday, we’ll be in the car together with the radio blaring, singing at the top of our lungs, and you’ll cast a proud grin at me from your spot in the front seat as you carry a note longer and more purely than me.  Maybe on that day, I’ll cry again, realizing how far we’ve come from yesterday.

This month has been amazing.  I keep thinking back on it and I can’t even believe how much you’ve grown.

You took your first road trip, to Connecticut, to visit my side of the family. You met so many new people and charmed every one of them with your beauty, your sweet personality, and your alert, eager gaze.

RASPBERRIES.  Holy crap.  You blow so many raspberries that I honestly can’t believe you can produce that much spit.  Sometimes you wake up from naps and amuse yourself for a few minutes just by blowing raspberries.  It’s hilarious, and I sit here listening to you with a huge smile curving my lips, because fuck, you’re so cute it makes my brain melt.

You learned how to roll onto your belly.  This is slightly terrifying to me (insofar as anything “terrifying” can be quantified as “slightly”), because it’s a sign of impending mobility.  YOU CAN MOVE ON YOUR OWN.  Your favourite thing to do is roll onto your belly and then holler at us to flip you back over… so now I’m really looking forward to when you can roll from belly to back.

And when you’re on your stomach, you can raise your head so high.  You watch everything.  You especially like your fursiblings, and while Buffy seems convinced that if she just pretends you’re not there you will go away, Joss thinks you are pretty much the coolest thing since sliced bread.  Or carrots.  Or whatever the heck dogs think is awesome.  If I’m not watching you, he’ll come running up and lick your face, making you squint and shake your head like what the hell was that?! I think that if I didn’t have teeth and a dog ran his tongue over my gums I’d have much the same reaction, and I don’t fault you for attempting to get revenge when you try to sneakily grab his ears and stuff them in your mouth when you are both in my lap.

Oh, you and stuffing things in your mouth.  Haha.  This is your favourite thing to do, now.  If your fingers aren’t in your mouth, they’re reaching for something to put in there.  A blanket, a rattle, Joss’ ear, the sensitive hairs at the nape of my neck, your Daddy’s lip… you don’t discriminate.  IT MUST GO IN YOUR MOUTH.  Strangely, however, you’ve stopped nursing as much and, in fact, if I try to offer you boob when you are not hungry, you arch your back and scream like I’m skinning you alive.  Excuse the fuck out of me for trying to sustain your life.

You know what else your screaming led to this month? Your first hospital visit.  That sucked, and I’d prefer not to do it again.  In fact, I’d prefer not to talk about it any more than I already have, so, moving on…

You’ve begun using your hands more precisely.  You’re by no means a pro at it, but if I hold something in front of you for long enough, you’re going to grab it (then it’ll go into your mouth).

You laugh.  Not often, but often enough. The other day, we sat on the balcony together with the dogs, and every time one of them would run by you’d laugh.  I admit, I kept calling them over and then shooing them away, just to hear you.

And I have to say, every time you roll onto your belly and soothe yourself to sleep, my heart aches.  I’m so proud of you, yet at the same time it’s another sign that you’re growing towards independence from me.

Grow slowly.  I need you.  We love you.

Love,
Mama.