six months
Dear Maddie,
Today you are six months old. I just can’t believe it. This morning you woke up extra-early, as though you too were excited about this, a most momentous milestone. You looked up at me from your crib and grinned, then reached up for me, ready to start the day.
Six months has flown by. It’s incomprehensible to me that at this time, six months ago, you were still huddled within me. I keep peeking at the clock today, thinking “At this time…” I am reliving that day, contemplating my hardest day ever, my best day ever. Thinking about you.
You are my world. I think you know that now, and I hope you always do. When you’re a teenager and you hate every word that escapes my wrinkly lips I hope that you still know that – I will send you right to this webpage, missy, and make you read all about it.
You have my heart, I hope you know. You have made my life crazy - indeed, you have made me crazy – and it’s more intense than it used to be, busier and full of routines that must be followed or we will incur your wrath.
You are like that: demanding and brilliant. As the lactation consultant predicted just six months ago, you will get what you want, when you want it. This is true, and Daddy and I have made it more so by encouraging you to speak up, to tell us what you love. And you have.
You love Horton, your little blue elephant. You love your silky and take it to bed with you each night, burying your face into it until we can see nothing but your stubby little fingers, poking out the top. You will not sleep without it. You are sitting up now, constantly, and you love your new vantage point; even more so, you love your jumper seat, bouncing away and babbling happily. You still love to snuggle, and to be rocked. You love your bottles, but you also love all the new foods you’re experiencing. Peaches are your favorite.
You still love the fans overhead, and you still love your carseat, although you don’t sleep there anymore – you’ve transferred that devotion to your crib.
You have made our lives so much more. That’s it, just more. There aren’t words to describe it really. So instead, I will tell you what I love: you. The heavy warmth of your body in my arms, your sweet milky sighs as you drift to sleep, the tight grasp of your hand around my finger. I love the way you stare into my eyes when you’re drinking your bottle late in the day, the way they start to droop, then open again to ensure I’m still there with you. I love your excited squeals, your giggles, your bright sunny smiles. I love giving you baths after feeding you and washing peas from your hair. I love letting you splash, watching you play.
I am amazed by you, astonished by you, each and every day. I am so 
blessed to have spent the last six months learning all about you, getting to know you. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life watching you grow and change. We will both do so, and we’ll learn new things to love, but for the last six months and for the rest of my life, I know what will always be at the top of my list: you.
Love, Mommy.
Filed under: Madeline, breastfeeding, letters | 1 Comment
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This is so beautiful. And she looks so adorable in the crib. My mom recently warned me that time flies by, that the first few years are the times you have to enjoy yourself and really cherish it. She said once they’re off for school, that consumes their time, and then after that, all she remembers is moving us around from one dorm to another, and then we were all gone. At this point I had to ask her: “If all of this, from the moment they’re born, is just one big process of letting go, then where is the joy in that? Where is the satisfaction?” And she said, “You guys allowed me to be a Mom.”
This is so beautiful. And she looks so adorable in the crib. My mom recently warned me that time flies by, that the first few years are the times you have to enjoy yourself and really cherish it. She said once they’re off for school, that consumes their time, and then after that, all she remembers is moving us around from one dorm to another, and then we were all gone. At this point I had to ask her: “If all of this, from the moment they’re born, is just one big process of letting go, then where is the joy in that? Where is the satisfaction?” And she said, “You guys allowed me to be a Mom.”
And that was all she had to say for me to understand why it’s so worth it. The feedings, the laughs, the baths, the “sweet milky sighs” – and then a lifetime of watching them “grow and change.” And always you will be her mom. Always.