To Aida on her 6-month birthday

May 12, 2011

Dear Aida,

I love your creases. The folds in your thighs. The ones that mark the ends of your arms and the beginnings of your hands. The ones that bubble under your eyes and turn red when you're tired.

You have two long grooves that circle your neck and disappear into smooth, pink lines when you crane your head backwards as I rock you. (Because you just have to see what's behind you when I'm trying to rock you toward sleep).

The dimples in your elbows melt me.

Looking at you today as you swung in your swing and yappity-yapped it up with nothing but the air, I thought about life six months ago, when I tried my hardest to imagine what it would be like once you were born.

I'd had some experience with sleeplessness, so I could sort of envision that. We'd collected plenty of baby things, so I was starting to understand how the supplies alone could transform our decor.

But I don't think I was prepared for the emotional addiction -- the wholesale, all-out, heart-hold, belly-aching love I would feel every day of your existence. When I'm not with you, I think of you. When I am with you, I have to restrain myself from cuddling you 24-7. I am deliberate in my effort to give your Mommy-free space, air to become your own little person.

But still I watch. Can't stop.

It is how I know your creases. The mole on your belly that looks like mine. The change in your hair pattern as you've rubbed some of it off in your sleep. It is how I know not to rush in at night when I hear you cry out briefly from your crib. Because I was just in there, watching you sleep in the dark, and I know your little body was close enough to the side of the crib that whenever you decided to change positions, you were going to be startled by the wooden rails. And you were.

I have contemplated you up close every day of your life. And yet, when I look back at pictures and videos, I am stunned by how much and how fast you've grown.

You're six months old today, kind of a landmark annivesary in the world of baby development. New clothes sizes, new toys created especially to help you explore the world. And boy are you ever doing that.

Your body, once dwarfed by the monstrous crib, now extends half the length of the mattress as you roll from your back to your side to your belly and back. Your hands, still small, reach out strong and intentional now, grabbing my lips, my nose, patting my cheek, my chest.

You've been in overdrive lately, conquering so many firsts it's been hard for me to keep up.

In the last month, you've started rolling over, sprouted your first tooth, learned to sit up and finally kicked the swaddle habit. We decided to attach the breathable bumper to your crib after you started rolling over because you were moving around so much that every time your noggin hit the side of the crib, you'd cry out for rescue.

Oh, Aida, I love your growth.

Your bright eyes are so much brighter today than the day before. Your laugh is longer and louder. Your legs so powerful as they push off my belly to a stand, again and again, like you're ready to jump. You splash now in the bath and you want to eat the faucet. Your hands are so busy, I'm always looking for something to put in them to satisfy your desire to touch, to hold, to toss. Your father and I have started discussing how we're going to go about child-proofing this house. We can see in your eyes that as soon as you are mobile, there isn't a space or corner, a shelf or chair leg, that you won't want to get your hands (and mouth) on.

This morning, on our second-ever a.m. run since the jogging stroller arrived Tuesday night, you started off on the ride sucking on your giraffe and caterpillar toys. But within the first mile, you set them beside you and watched the road and the sky. With the visor rolled back, I was able to see you follow a pelican as it flew near us and landed on a dock post. You babbled and screeched with delight when joggers running the opposite way passed by us and smiled. It wasn't the easiest run I've ever had. But with you there, it was surely the funnest.

I can't wait for more miles with you.

I'm so happy you're here. So thankful to be able to see you grow, to witness the look in your father's eyes when he holds you or feeds you and you make him laugh. To be here when you wake up in the morning, all energy and full of baby excitement.

It's true, I'm still tired. Very tired. Tired like I have never been tired. There are days when all I can feel is The Tired, like half my brain is on extended leave. And it's also true that since you came into my life, I regularly fret about things that have no place in the here-and-now (how will I protect you from bullies and molesters and bad internet grammar? from cars that go too fast and boys who do the same? how will I give you a sense of yourself beyond the images pop culture would assign you? how will we pay for your college?).

But in the here-and-now, in the hours I have to hold you and watch you, I can't get enough of counting your creases and watching you play. I'm so proud of you, so happy to be your mommy.

Happy half-birthday.

Love,

Mommy

Aida at 6 months, May 12, 2011.