I’m writing this letter early on Friday morning. The sun is streaming in through the windows in our front room, and you’re asleep in the other room. This morning after you woke and nursed for a while, I held your tiny foot in my hand. It’s so small and fits so easily in my palm. Right now you’re in a magical place between baby and child, and I’m just trying to savor this sweet age.
You are walking with more and more confidence each day. You are fearless. You just keep getting up and trying again every time you fall. I think a lot about things I’ll want to show you one day. There are going to be so many instances in your life where learning isn’t that easy. You will make a lot of mistakes and things won’t always come naturally to you. In the end you will be stronger, smarter, and kinder because of those failures and struggles. Even though it won’t seem that way at the time, you’ll need to trust that they’re all apart of your journey and they’re preparing you for even greater challenges and opportunities ahead.
Learning to walk is such a great metaphor for the struggles that come with learning important/transformational things in your life. You were naturally meant to walk, but it’s taken you over two months to get to where you are now. You started slowly, pulling up to hold onto the edges of chairs and tables, taking careful steps while clinging to objects. You slowly built up your leg muscles, day after day. You took exploratory steps out into the great middle, squealing with delight at the excitement. You began standing up on your own. You stood a lot-looking out and around, wondering if you had the strength and balance to take a step or two. sometimes you did. sometimes you just sat again. and then you took one or two racing steps only to trip or fall. Again. and again. and again. You stood. you stepped. you fell.
until you didn’t. Now you’re mastering your balance, but all you do is walk. all the time. up on your feet. You’ve built the strength and the muscle memory and the balance you need, and you’re on to the next great thing.
I sit across from you in the living room and open my arms up wide, and you literally come walking as fast as you can (almost tripping) grinning ear to ear and laughing and finally spilling into my arms. These are the days.
You’re slowly learning a few baby signs like “more” and “all done” and “milk.” These first few signing exchanges are so exciting. We’re really communicating, little bean!
You still haven’t consistently said mama yet. It’s pretty hilarious. Every time I try to get you to say mama, I point to myself and say “ma-ma,” and you every time reply, “Pa-pa.” It gets your dad every time. He can’t keep down the guffaws.
It looks after several months with just your two bottom teeth, a third is breaking through up top. It’s made you a lot grumpier this week, but not too bad.
Keep growing little one and taking chances. Don’t be afraid to take those steps into the unknown. You might just find yourself running on the other side.
You are so loved, my Beanshine, always,