She Says… A Little Scare and Getting Ready for You

My little acrobat/soccer player/drummer,

We had a little bit of excitement last Friday. Last week was a long, LONG week. Daddy was traveling and I was working days and nights and Owen was, well, being two years old. I was so ready to just put my feet up after I tucked Owen into his new(ish) big boy bed. But I couldn’t quite shake this feeling I was having. Like something wasn’t right.

I won’t go into too much detail about what I was experiencing, because when you get older you’ll read this letter and be all, “Eww, Mom. That’s so GROSS.”, but let’s just say I was worried that my amniotic fluid may have been, uhh, coming out before the right time. I called the doctor and she told me that the only way to diagnose such a thing was to have a test done, and although chances were low that that’s what was going on, I had to go immediately to the hospital to be sure. So, no time for putting my feet up. I had to call a babysitter (who thankfully lives across the street) and head to the hospital solo. Bottom line: It wasn’t that. After a couple hours of monitoring and a quick test, we were on our way back home. Phew.

Side note: After the nurse hooked you up to the monitor, she would come back every once in a while and marvel at just how active you were. I still can’t believe it’s possible, but you’re even stronger and more active than your brother was. You were kicking and flipping and totally showing off for her, forcing the monitor to make sounds like a whale underwater that were even louder than your heartbeat. She also showed me the spikes on the screen that showed your brain activity. Apparently you were showing signs of neural development a few weeks ahead of your age. Little smarty pants. Your movements are so forceful that I’ve been watching them from the outside for several weeks, and recently you’ve even jolted my whole body with your movements (especially in the middle of the night!). With Owen I remember a clear pattern of awake/sleeping times. With you, it seems you’re almost always awake and moving. I may very well have my hands full if you keep that up once you come out.

Our little excursion to the hospital may have been short and a false alarm, but do you know what it did for me? It completely changed the way I think about you.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been thinking about you for 30+ weeks already. But something changed when I realized that if I was having the issue I thought I was having, I would have had to come to terms with the idea of meeting you much sooner than I expected. As in, you are A PERSON. And you are coming, whether we’re ready or not.

On the way home from the hospital my brain went into overdrive. You’re coming. In 10 weeks (or only 8 weeks if you’re on your brother’s time schedule… or sooner if you really want to catch me off guard…). While on some level I’ve been procrastinating because I know that babies really need very little when they come home from the hospital (really just diapers… and they even send you home from the hospital with some of those), now it’s time to kick it into high gear.

I’m sorry to say it, but your nursery has looked more like a storage closet than a bedroom for the last 20 weeks. A place where I dumped clothes and toys that Owen didn’t need anymore, but I knew we’d need again someday soon. Even the crib and changing table were just pushed in and left there when we switched Owen into his big boy bed.

But now, it’s time. Yesterday I washed 4 loads of teeny tiny baby laundry that have been packed in boxes in our attic since we moved. I nearly got high off of the smell of the baby detergent, completely overwhelmed by the memories of Owen’s early days. I cleaned baby seats and swings and carriers. I folded swaddles and receiving blankets. I opened boxes labeled “Baby Bottles” and unzipped my breast pump bag (which I promptly zipped back up again and tucked in the back of the closet — PTSD from the nursing issues I had with Owen) and flipped through books filled with advice about how to survive the first days, weeks, months. And I did it all thinking of you, as a little person, who we’re going to meet really, really soon.

I couldn’t be more excited. But can you make me a deal? Stay in there for at LEAST 8 more weeks so I can get even more ready for you. I know you don’t need me to sew curtains or stick little decals on the wall of your room, but it certainly would help me feel more calm and prepared for when you arrive. You do, however, need a carseat, and that’s still buried in the basement somewhere.

We’re getting there.

I’m so excited to meet you. And I can’t wait to learn all of the ways you will continue to surprise me, like you did last Friday. In the meantime, think about taking a nap or two, mmmkay little guy? I’m exhausted just by feeling you bounce around in there all day long.

I love you. More than you may ever really know.
Mommy

She Says… Art vs. Science

Dear little one,

We are 24 weeks along in this somewhere-around-40-week-long incubation period (though since Owen only stayed put for 38, we’re thinking you may do the same). Although I was pretty tired in the first trimester and pretty sick for the month or two after that, you’ve made this INCREDIBLY easy on me so far. So easy that I fear that once you come out I will have to pay the price for having it so easy now. Let’s just stick with you being a piece of cake, eh?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… I feel SO PREGNANT. I look consistently about 5 weeks “larger” than I did with Owen. Thankfully, so far at least, I’ve gained significantly less weight. So we’re doing pretty well in that department. I’m finding it harder to exercise this time around (no time! no time!), but I’m working on fitting in walks and quick strength training whenever I can do it. Better than nothing, but certainly not the “gym 4 times a week” regimen I was used to when I was pregnant with Owen. Still surprises me how much weight I gained while pregnant with him given how I was exercising.

Finally the sun has started to melt the crazy amounts of snow we got over this long, long winter, and I am seeing little reminders of what the warmer weather feels like. We’ll be strolling around town without jackets in a matter of weeks! Hallelujah! Still, it feels like it’s taking forever to get here and I’m so tired of wearing gloves and parkas. Also, we’re quickly approaching the “I can’t zip my coat” stage, so spring better come soon. Or else you and I are going to be 1) homebound to stay warm, or 2) wearing one of Daddy’s coats or a burlap sack, which is not a fashion statement I’d like to make, if possible.

I am so excited to know you are a boy, and to know your name. Daddy and I try it on for size after Owen has gone to bed or when we’re talking and it’s just the two of us. I love to say it, and to write it down. I’m fairly certain I’m going to let it slip to someone else by accident, since I’m getting used to saying it out loud, but we’re doing our best to keep it a secret. Our little secret. I hope you will love it too. I haven’t even met you yet, but I feel like it suits you.

I’ve noticed something that is remarkably different being pregnant with you. When I was pregnant the first time, I was consumed by the science of pregnancy. How those teeny tiny cells turn into a person. What was growing during each week and how your tiny body was forming. While I’m no less in awe of that process this time around, I am struck by how much less I am focusing on the science and how much more I am focusing on the art. Feeling you kick and roll and poke and arch inside me feels less medical and more magical. I’m barely reading the “what’s going on this week” emails and more just enjoying the simplicity and joy of keeping  you safely tucked away from the world. I’m thinking about the music and the voices and the sounds that you’re hearing. I’m noticing our daily routines and patterns and when you’re awake and when you’re asleep. I’m savoring every minute in a different way than I did with Owen. I don’t know how to describe it except to say that I am peacefully enjoying this time with you.

Growing you has been one of the greatest joys of my life so far. You are a masterpiece already.

I have one little request… can you calm down in there a little bit? It’s only week 24 and you are already so much stronger and more active than your brother. I really didn’t think that was possible. I fear for my internal organs as you get bigger.

All the love in the world… and then some,
Mommy

She Says… You! You’re there!

My little acrobat,

I felt you today! Whatever it was that I felt a few weeks ago was not really you, or, at least, it wasn’t as clearly you as this was. This morning, after wolfing down a bagel with cream cheese and some fruit (free breakfast on Fridays at work!), I was sitting at my computer going through my emails and it happened. It was just one, single tap. I froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard, and before I knew it I was smiling. Immediately I recognized what that feeling was.

It was you. Saying hi.

A few minutes later, there was another tap, deep down in my pelvis. And after that, one more, before you fell asleep or changed positions. And I have to tell you something. Something that I didn’t want to admit. I was worried that since you are the second beautiful little person that has grown inside my body that things wouldn’t be as exciting or as new or as special as they were the first time around. But you want to know something? I can assure you that is not the case. I am cherishing every move you make inside my belly and every breath you will take once you “pop out”, as Owen says you will “when you are bigger”. It is no less amazing simply because it has happened before. It’s always a miracle. I remember my mom, your Rah Rah, telling me that over and over again, but I feel it now, more than ever. Feeling you move today was just as awe-inspiring as it was with Owen, and perhaps even more so, because I knew exactly what I was feeling. I knew it was you.

Right now you are about the size of an avocado, which is ironic, because that has been all I want to eat recently. Well, not all, exactly, but I’d be happy to eat a whole one at every meal if I could. Straight up, a little salt, with a spoon. (When will you be the size of a jar of peanut butter? That’s my other guilty pleasure…). So far you have made this pregnancy incredibly easy on my body. Little to no sickness, and, as of yet, very little weight gain (unlike your brother, who had me packing on the pounds from the very start, despite the fact that my starting weight for both pregnancies was the same). The only way I remember I’m pregnant some days is my rapidly expanding baby bump! I’ve already grown out of some of the clothes I remember wearing until spring when I was pregnant with Owen.

Your blood is pumping, your arms and legs are growing to put you in the proper proportions, and you even have fingernails and toenails already. I’m looking forward to our growth spurt over the next few weeks!

I love you so, so much. And I’m so thrilled that you decided to make today the day you said hi from the inside.

Love,
Mommy

 

She Says… Hello, Little One

Hello, Little One.

I know it’s taken me a long time to write to you. You have been growing inside me for 14 weeks! It wasn’t that I didn’t know you were in there or that I was surprised by you. No, quite the contrary. Daddy and I hoped for you since before you even existed. I knew you were in there even before I got the positive pregnancy test. I just knew.

It’s taken me so long to write to you for two reasons. First, I have become deeply aware that things don’t always work out as planned with babies. There are so many things that can go wrong in the process, and I’ve learned once again, as I did with your big brother Owen, that I am definitely not in control of how/when the miracle of making a baby will happen. So for the first few weeks while I was in shock and awe that you were really in there, growing, I was also scared out of my mind that something was going to go wrong. I hope, when you are older, that you do not have to keep learning this lesson as I have. However, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I feel so lucky to have you and your brother (and any future babies, should they come along!), no matter what heartache brought you here.

The other reason it took me so long to write to you is that life is busy. Owen is a hilarious, curious, verbose, rambunctious, 2 1/2 year old ball of energy. He never stops moving, asking questions, demanding attention or cracking us up. Work is busy and Daddy’s work forces him to travel a lot. In short, you’re already a part of a crazy whirlwind of a family and it’s only going to get crazier once you arrive. I have no doubt you will grow to love our loud, silly, funny family and you will quickly find that although you’ve just arrived, it’s like you were always a part of it.

But don’t let that make you think, for a second, that you’re being forgotten. You’re not. In fact, you’re more like my best kept secret right now. Of course people can tell that I’m pregnant (boy, can they ever… you sure made yourself known very early on!), but there’s often so much going on that the only one thinking about you daily is me. I was stuck in bed last week with the flu (ugh, it was beyond awful) and though it felt kind of lonely when I couldn’t play with Owen or talk with Daddy, I knew you were there keeping me company. I even think I felt you move around in my belly for the first time when I was laying still in my bed. It’s like you were saying, “Hey, Mommy! I’m here!”.

You are no bigger than a lemon and I already love everything about you.

Owen is totally, completely, head-over-heels in love with you too. He talks about you all the time and often says he wants you to sit next to him when I strap him into his carseat in the car. He is also 100% convinced that you are a girl. A sister. Oh, how it melts me to hear him say that word with such love! I keep trying to tell him that you could be a boy or a girl, but he has stuck to his guns for the last month or more that you are a girl (which, if you know anything about two year olds, you will know is a miracle that he hasn’t changed his mind).

I keep going back and forth between dreaming of you as a boy and as a girl. If you are a boy, I can’t help but laugh thinking of all the wild and crazy shenanigans you are going to get into with your brother. There has been something so special about the mother/son bond that I have with Owen, that would be thrilled to be outnumbered by yet another little guy. And yet, the idea that you are a girl flutters my stomach and makes me dream of the things that only a mother and daughter share. And, as I said, the way that Owen says the word sister makes my heart break into a million little pieces. I am certain we will adore you, whatever you are!

I’m not one to have premonitions about things like this, but I’m kind of thinking you are a boy. Sorry, Owen. We will find out in a few weeks!

We love you, Little One. More than you may ever know. Don’t you ever forget it.

Love,
Mommy

She Says… 2 Years

To my big two year old,

Where do I begin? The person that you are becoming is absolutely impossible to capture in words. It’s surprising to me that so much of your personality was evident from the day you were born, but I didn’t recognize it at the time. I still remember all of the details of that day so vividly. The way my stomach involuntarily clenched tighter than I ever thought possible, and grew tighter and tighter with each contraction. The way I squeezed my eyes shut and furrowed my brow and tried my best to breathe deeply as my body, and your little body, took over my mind. The way the light came into my hospital room. The way Daddy looked so helpless. The squeak of the exercise ball under my extra weight as I rolled around the room trying to be as comfortable as possible. The way my swollen feet stuck to the floor as I paced back and forth from the bed to the ball to the bathroom. The way I looked out the window at the clouds in the morning sky and wondered what your sweet little face would look like when this was all over. What your voice would sound like. What you’d be like when you grew up.

I had no idea, at that moment, that in two years you would be the hilarious, silly, rambunctious, fearless, wildly extroverted, sweet little charmer that you are today. I had no idea that Daddy and I would sit around at night and marvel at how perfect you are. (It’s true. We do. Yes, still.). I had no idea that you would become the funniest person I’ve ever met. I had no idea that you would be so hungry to learn new things, and, even at two years old, ask incredibly astute questions.

I had no idea that you would be so social that you would learn everyone’s name you have ever met, and that you would repeat them day after day and constantly ask “What’s her name? What’s his name?” about everyone from the mailman to the person on tv. I had no idea that you would love to sing to yourself. (Confession: Your newly discovered “singing voice” is just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. An awesome remix of “Tinkle, Tinkle” and “Baa Baa Black Sheep” is, by far, your favorite song to sing).

I had no idea you would get so much joy out of running around with balloons on your birthday. I had no idea you would look forward to bathtime every night so you could chase the bar of soap around and squeal, “WHERE’D IT GO?!”.

I had no idea you would adore being the center of attention as much as you do. (Ok, I could have guessed that, judging by the fact that you are a product of Daddy and I, but you really glow in the spotlight. People can’t take their eyes off of you, and you’ll do anything to keep the show going.). I had no idea that you could fall off the couch a million times, bang your face on the coffee table, fall off the climbing wall at the playground and get countless bruises and scrapes every day, and still grin and say, “AGAIN!” instead of crying. You are like a rubber ball. You’re so tough it takes my breath away. And scares the crap out of me at the same time.

And yet, I had no idea you would also wake up tearful sometimes and say, “Hold you, Mommy? Rock in chair?”, looking up at me with your clear, blue eyes. You love to snuggle, and to pretend to sleep together (which you dubbed “honk-shooing” the other night, because we always pretend to snore). (I think I died a little right there from the cuteness.). There is nothing I love more than those sweet cuddles. I don’t care how big you get; I hope you always want to rock with me. I’ll always be here to rock with you.

I had no idea, two years ago, that you would be so darn smart. Do you know what words you learned at school today? “Constantinople” and “Timbuktu”. Do you even know you just turned two today? Sometimes your sentences are so clear and your statements are so profound that I forget too. I had no idea I would want to videotape everything you do and send it to all of our friends and family constantly. But honestly, you amaze me just about every minute of every day.

In short, you are an awesome kid. And you’re growing up to be such an awesome person. And I bet when you read this you’ll be all, “Aww, Mom. Shut up. And stop saying awesome. You’re so lame.”. But I mean it. Your personality is absolutely the best parts of Daddy and the best parts of me, and some of your own special sauce too. It’s a combination far better than I ever could have imagined, two years ago, while I waited to see your face.

I love you. I love every little bit of you, even the parts I haven’t even seen yet. Don’t ever forget it.

Love,
Mommy

She Says… 18 Months

Owen,

Since you were born, time seems to work in mysterious ways. It feels like just yesterday I was breathing slowly and clutching my belly as the contractions washed over me and your little body told mine that it was time for you to come out. But, at the same time, I feel like I have lived a hundred lifetimes since then, as sometimes moments with you, staring into your beautiful blue eyes or dancing around the kitchen together, can feel like they stretch on for days and days. It was only 18 months ago, but so. much. has. happened. since. then.

You went from smooshy, floppy newborn to stable sitter to adventurous crawler to full-speed-ahead walker to wild runner to fearless climber. And I do mean fearless! You are confident and silly and will do anything for a laugh. You thrive on being the center of attention and have already mastered the art of deliciously reeling your audience in. Daddy and I already know how hilarious you are, but it has been so fun watching other people get hooked on you as well. You are a charmer, buddy. Use that power wisely as you grow.

You went from scratchy newborn cries to making tentative sounds to gibberish to words. Real! Words! Now those words are a constant string of the thoughts flying through your brain. This morning, from the second you woke up it was, “Doggie! Hi, doggie. Car? BUS! Open. Moon. Hi, moon. Morning, Mommy. Diaper. Roll it! Milk. MILK!” and on and on. Every day your vocabulary expands and you surprise me with some connection that your mind has made. You amaze me.

You, my little chatterbox, are an incredible communicator. You use words and sign language and gestures and pure, unadulterated emotion to get your point across. Oh, you are a master of emotion. You do not hold back when it comes to smiles and laughs. You throw your head back and laugh so hard that sometimes I worry you might just stop breathing. Confession: You make me feel like the funniest person in the world. I’m not. But I am to you. It goes the other way too — when something happens that makes you sad, your whole face opens up in the most beautiful pout. Hot tears spill over your cheeks and you are consumed by that one emotion. Luckily a quick cuddle from me can usually dry those tears in an instant. I hope that is always the case, though I know it will not always be that easy. Still, when your heart is broken, I’ll be here to try to dry those tears too.

You mirror emotions in others too. As a baby, you were always a “social crier”. When other babies at daycare cried, you would cry too. Now when you hear a baby crying, you freeze and get a very worried look on your face and say, “Baby!” anxiously. When I read sad parts of books (like when Corduroy gets left at the laundromat), your eyebrows knit together thoughtfully and sometimes you whimper or whine. A page later you are raising your arms and shouting “Hooray!” when he is found. I hope you are always so honest and free with your emotions as you are right now. Wearing your heart on your sleeve is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a beautiful thing.

Always keep that remarkable ability to feel other peoples’ emotions. Care. It’s hard to see things from someone else’s perspective sometimes, but it helps. I promise.

My wonderful boy, I can’t even explain how much fun we have when we’re together. When you are older, I hope you look back and feel the same way. And, someday, I hope you feel the same happiness in your life as I do right now.

I love you. Always.
Mommy

She Says… 12 Months

My precious son,

You are a year old. One whole year. 12 months. 365 days. Although it seems like it has gone by an in instant, it also kind of feels like a lifetime has gone by since this time last year. On July 24th, 2010 I got to see your sweet face for the first time. Daddy and I had worked so hard to create you, and I thought about you every day when you were growing in my belly, but we didn’t really know you back then. We had a lot of learning to do. We loved you; yes, we loved you so fiercely that simply loving you consumed our lives in those early days. But we didn’t really know you. As a person. Our tiny person.

Now we know you. We know the twinkle in your eye when you are about to toss food off of your high chair. Which you do a lot. And you think it’s hilarious. Here’s a secret: though I try not to show it, I think it’s hilarious too. We know the slow blink you do when you wake up from a nap. The slow blink that turns into a smile that morphs into a grin that often erupts into a giggle as you stand up, toss your lovey over the rail of your crib and then feign sadness. We know the little dance/knee bounce you do when you hear the ABC song. We know the feel of your little fingers in our hands as you toddle faster and faster and farther and farther.

We know the way your hair spikes up, still wet from the bath, and how it is as soft as a little duckling’s feathers when it is dry. We know how mischievous you are and how you love to put dog toys in your mouth even when we tell you not to. We know how you are drawn to anything with buttons. We almost always know what you are pointing at when you gesture with your whole arm and cry, “Uh uh”. We know that you are happiest when you are climbing on something (recently the dog) and listening to music.

We know the sound of your cry and your voice and your breathing. We know the curves of your fingernails and your funny, flat big toenail that is still smooshed from when you were in the womb. We know your big, beautiful, piercing, dancing blue eyes. We know your adorable outie bellybutton with the criss-cross creases that slowly emerged once your umbilical cord closed up. We know every tooth as it pushes its way through your gums and makes you cranky with pain.

We know that you love drinking your bottles. You tip your head back and rest it on my shoulder as you gaze up at me, still playing gently with my curls like you did when you were a tiny baby. Now your motor skills are so fine that you can hold a single hair. You pat my cheeks and tickle my knee and sometimes kick your legs absentmindedly. We cuddle. You love to cuddle, but only when drinking your bottle. After that, you are off and running. We know your sweet, sensitive, quiet side. We know you.

But you know what the most amazing thing is? There’s still so much about you that we don’t know. We don’t know what your first word will be (beyond “Dada”, which you are beginning to use appropriately for Daddy, and “Duh” for dog). We don’t know what your favorite subject in school will be. We don’t know what style you will have. We don’t know what words you will write or music you will make or sports you will play. We don’t know when you’ll fall in love or who you’ll fall in love with. We don’t know what you’ll choose to do with your life or what you’ll remember about your childhood. We don’t know what type of a man you will be or what career you will choose. We don’t know what you’ll be passionate about.

I am so in awe of you already. I can’t imagine how that love will grow and multiply as I get to know the person you will become. You have an amazing personality bottled up in that tiny body of yours, and I am so excited to watch it unfold.

I hope your eyes always dance the way they do now. You light up with joy and approach life with an open-mouthed grin. I love that about you. You are confident and social and determined. You are independent and curious, but you always keep an eye on me to make sure I am by your side. I am. I always will be.

Even though you don’t have the words to tell me what you are thinking yet, we have such a strong bond that I always kind of know. I know that will change over the years, but I hope that you always know that I want to know. I want to know you forever. I know for sure that I will love you forever.

I love you, my little 1 year old. I don’t know how you got so big so fast. It is exhilarating to watch you grow beyond the reach of my arms. By far the most challenging and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. You stretch me. You amaze me. You make me a better version of myself.

All my love (and then some),
Mama

Wanna see? Daddy put together a video of our birthday weekend celebration.

She Says… 11 Months

My sweet toddling little man,

Confession: We missed taking pictures last month. Alas, amidst moving boxes and going to the beach and starting your new daycare, we just couldn’t get our act together to get you in that chair and take your picture. Sorry, bud. You’ll just have to trust me that you were as cute as ever.

You are officially one month shy of your first birthday. Honestly, the time is flying by so quickly I can barely stand it. Sometimes when people ask me how old you are, I begin to say “5 months” or “6 months” and then realize that — yikes! — you keep getting older. And, I might add, more and more entertaining and fun. Not that you weren’t fun before, because you were, but now you are the full-on court jester in our house. You LOVE to be the center of attention and to show off. You smile for the camera, copy sounds on command, wander around yelling new gibberish words and blowing raspberries. You are, without a doubt, the life of the party. And quite a ham. You throw your head back and laugh and laugh at funny faces and funny sounds and pretty much anything Daddy does. You wriggle down from our laps to give the dog your patented love pats whacks and do. not. stop. moving. EVER.

I have come to realize that you are one of those “busy” babies. Like we didn’t know that before! You are a speed crawler who can get your little hands in the dog bowl before I can launch myself across the room to stop you. You open every door and drawer you can get your hands on, and inevitably get your fingers stuck, even when they are baby proofed. You’re sneaky like that.

And you’re not just crawling anymore. No, sir. We have officially entered the world of toddlerdom. You took your first little baby steps when you were 10 1/2 months old, and now you’re walking so far that we’re no longer counting in steps. You scamper up both flights of stairs in our house like they are nothing. We’re working on teaching you to go back down on your butt, but you would rather just hold our fingers and step blindly off each step, without a thought as to what is below.

You are fearless. Utterly fearless. And sometimes it scares the crap out of me. Judging by what your Daddy was like when he was a child, you get that from him. And I’m sure I have many more years of heartstopping moments ahead of me with you, my little daredevil. As if you couldn’t tell from these pictures, it’s just about impossible to get you to sit still for a picture. It’s a wonder we have any in focus at all. I think the days of monthly photos are nearing a close!

Just like when you were a tiny baby, music is just about your favorite thing ever. If you’re sad or oonchy (as we like to call it, when you’re squirmy and agitated for no apparent reason), I can always ALWAYS make you smile with a song. Recently you’ve started dancing when you hear music, whether it’s the radio or the ABC’s. It’s funny, because neither Daddy nor I bounce as soon as music comes on, but you’ve learned that dancing is just what you do when the music moves you. And so you do. You’re fascinated with your musical toys, and have become totally head over heels in love with our djembe drum. You smack the top and tap with with your fingers and push it over on its side and pat the side.

You started your new daycare and have adjusted better than even I expected. All of the teachers can’t stop fawning over your rock star hair and adorable giggle. You haven’t figured out how to nap there very well (yet), but you couldn’t be happier or more agreeable despite the lack of sleep. And you make up for it by sleeping like a rock at night.

You impress me and amaze me every day with what an easygoing little guy you are. You are flexible, yet opinionated. Sweet, yet stubborn. Scheduled, yet curious and open.

Owen, I am so proud of the person you are becoming. It makes me just about burst with happiness that you are exactly who you are. And that will always be the case. I love you so blindly, so unconditionally, so wholly that there isn’t a thing in the world you could do to change it.

I can’t wait to see what you’ll do today to make me laugh. Because it’s always something.

Love,
Mama

She Says… 10 Months

(Pictures to come! Amidst all the packing we didn’t even know what day it was, and especially didn’t remember to take this month’s pictures.)

Double digits, my tiny man. Double digits.

You are officially 10 months (and 1 day) old. All of a sudden it seems like you are speeding toward being 1 year old. Why 10 months feels so much older than 9 months, I’m not sure. But it does. And though I feel like it was just yesterday that I saw your sweet, tiny face for the first time (time really does fly), it’s also totally, totally amazing to think of all you’ve done and how you’ve changed since that day.

These days you are a moving machine. A tumbling, crawling, toddling, cruising, grabbing, rolling, reaching moving machine. You are not satisfied unless you are exploring; usually holding tightly to my fingers as you barrel forwards, head first. Sometimes you go faster than your little legs can handle and you face plant into the floor. Most of the time you don’t even care and you scramble right back up and keep on moving. I can already tell that once you take your first steps I’m going to be running after you forevermore.

I can’t even tell you how exciting it is for me to watch you explore the world like you do. With mouth-open amazement and sheer joy. It’s written all over your face. Your twinkling eyes and dimpled smile are 100% contagious, and I can say without a doubt that you make me laugh more than anyone else in the whole world. Except maybe Daddy; he cracks me up too.

Even with all of that exploring going on, there are these rare, sweet, quiet moments that we share. In the carseat while we’re driving and I hear you in the back singing a little song while thoughtfully examining your hands and fingers and toes. After you drink your bottle and you rest your head on my chest, babbling softly while you pat my cheeks and touch my curls. In the morning when I come to get you from your crib and you, warm, clean, cozy you, smile softly and rub your lovey on your face ever so gently. Those are the moments that I think my heart just might explode from loving you so much. Those are the moments I wish I could just stop everything and memorize every tiny detail.

You may be a rambunctious little boy who loves to be thrown high in the air, but there is also a sweet, tender, quiet side to you that I hope never goes away. The term ‘gentle man’ is not an oxymoron. I hope I can raise you to be one.

You’re in no hurry to get more teeth. Though I know you’re dying to try new, harder foods, you’re lacking something pretty important… top teeth. But man, those two little bottom teeth are adorable! I’ve been saying for the last 2 weeks that the top one(s) are coming in because you’re definitely teething again, but they seem to be taking their sweet time. I’m in no rush for them to come in, though, because somehow seeing those pearly whites makes you look less like a baby and more like a little boy. And although I want you to become a little boy someday, I’m trying to eek out a little while longer with you as my teeny tiny baby.

Despite the lack of top teeth, you’ve been eating a lot of new foods recently! Now that I’ve figured out your eczema triggers (oats and wheat/gluten, that I know of) we’ve expanded your repertoire to include all kinds of unlikely baby foods, and your skin is clear and smooth. You tried turnips and turnip greens last night and you gobbled them up. Chickpeas (baby hummus) and scrambled eggs and gluten-free pancakes. Homemade tofu fried rice and sweet potato fries. Even ice cream (you had a little taste on our recent trip to Ikea!). You just keep opening up your mouth like a little baby bird. Shovel it in, Mama! You still haven’t broken your “never refused a food yet” streak. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that that trend continues, because I think we are heading into the picky eating stage as you enter toddlerdom. That’s one stage I’m going to have trouble dealing with, especially from you, my little vacuum cleaner.

And now, onto our next big adventure as a family. WE’RE MOVING. I know you will never remember our first house, but I will always remember all of the important things that happened there. Like bringing you home and setting you on the porch and letting Schnitzel sniff your tiny body curled up in the carseat. I bust into tears at that moment, a mix of happiness, fear, excitement, worry, and just about every other emotion there is. We were HOME. With a BABY. I’m crying again just thinking about it. We made many memories in that little house, and although I feel emotional about leaving, I am brimming with anticipation to start our “new” lives together in our new house too. I can already picture you learning to ride a bike in our driveway and throw a baseball in our yard. We’ll have Christmases and you’ll pose for prom pictures there. It will be your HOME.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You are a JOY. You are MY joy. You and Daddy are everything in the world that’s important to me. Every day I think of how lucky I am to have both of you.

I love you, baby boy.

All the love in the universe,
Mama

She Says… 9 Months

Little Mister,

Yesterday you turned 9 months old. 9 months. All of a sudden you are a little BOY instead of a baby. I know it’s been happening all along, but it hit me yesterday like a ton of bricks. I put you in a little t-shirt and khaki shorts (in honor of Daddy’s birthday, which was also yesterday, the shirt said “I’d rather be naked”, which was one of Daddy’s favorite pastimes as an adult a child), and all of a sudden your tiny body didn’t look so tiny anymore. You stood up proudly and you didn’t wobble on your legs like you once did. You climbed all over me and Daddy and the furniture and all at once you seemed more like a fearless rock climber rather than a fumbling baby.

You do things with such purpose now — grabbing my glasses off my face when you wake up in the morning, twirling my curls of hair as I change your diaper, putting your sippy cup to your lips when you are thirsty.

You grab things with such precision that it shocks me every. single. time. The way you can flip your body over in a split second and take off into a crawl towards something you want (ahem, 99% of the time it’s a cell phone!) is still surprising to me.

People can’t help but smile as you toddle around, holding my fingers or a piece of furniture. You always have your trademark open-mouthed perma-grin on your face when you are on the move. It’s not hard to figure out what makes you happy. Your little feet slap the ground and the simple act of walking brings you so much joy it seems that you might burst with happiness.

This month, being able to move and crawl and squirm and scoot and walk and cruise and climb has turned you into a little person beyond the reach of my arms. And while sometimes I want to scream, “STOP!” and just pause this precious time in our lives, it’s just so beautiful to watch you become your own person that I am in awe.

In the last few days you have become amazed by doors and drawers. Anything that opens and closes. You will park your cute little butt next to a door swing it back and forth, back and forth. This morning you shut the door to your nursery and when it slammed shut your little eyes danced. You were so darn proud of yourself. I have a feeling this means there will be some smashed fingers in our near future, but you seem to be quite the tough cookie about bumps and bruises. You could care less as long as someone is there to give you a kiss and a quick snuggle, and then let you do right back to doing whatever you were doing when you got hurt.

Now that you’ve learned to pull up to a stand on just about anything, we often find you standing in your crib after your nap (with your lovey dangling out of your mouth, no doubt). Shockingly, though, you still haven’t really figured out how to go from sitting to laying down. You can sit up, stand up, cruise around and sit back down, but for some reason you have trouble going straight from sitting to laying down. I know babies often get “stuck” standing up when they first learn to pull up on things, and I was so proud of you for learning how to sit back down before you learned to stand up. I thought we were in the clear for the “I’m going to sit here and cry in my crib until someone LAYS ME DOWN”. Apparently we are not in the clear — but you get stuck sitting instead of standing. Yesterday you were so tired for your nap, but you were “stuck” sitting. You were crying so pathetically that I went in to check on you and you were literally hunched over trying to sleep sitting up.

Poor little dear. Maybe you DO still need Mama after all.

Owen, I can’t even tell you how thrilling it is, as the person who brought you into this world, to be able to watch you become a real person right before my eyes. Not that you haven’t been a person until this point, but there is something so special about you growing and learning and exploring when I’m not holding you in my arms. It breaks my heart and fills it with joy at the same time. That, right there, is the most amazing thing about being a mother. You’re mine, but you’re not mine. You’re part of me, but you’re totally your own person. You are so much like me and Daddy, but you are also 100% you.

I love you. Loving you fills my brain all day, every day. It’s hard to even think about anything else. You may be growing up, but you’re still my little baby. You will ALWAYS be my little baby.

All my love,
Mama