8.5 months, or the (long) procrastinated post
Bella, darling, I have a secret to tell you, so lean in close. No matter how well-read, stubborn, and confident you are, becoming a mother will strip you down to your most fragile insecurities. There's something about being in charge of another human being, molding the future of humanity, that makes you think twice on every move you make. And yet, by some divine plan, children are perfectly equipped to show us a way out of our fear, to escape and fly the way we once did as children. Just so long as we take the time to listen.
Inspired to give you a wonderful life, Daddy and I have set upon a journey of unschooling, of learning how to be gentle parents, of learning how not to impose ourselves and our arbitrary rules on others. It's journey towards the confidence to make our own way, to bow to our whims and teach ourselves through experience. In following our interests, we learn more than we could have ever imagined.
I'm no stranger to taking the path less traveled, but I had no idea how quickly this one would make me run for cover as the most mundane pieces of my life are strewn about for all to see. For some reason at six months you were okay exactly as you were, but by seven months it suddenly became important that you be right on schedule with everything, and the smallest comments suggesting otherwise flustered me and shook my confidence in the path we've chosen.
I've lost count how many times I've repeated this, by you showed us from minute one that you are your own person, you have your own agenda. It's useless for us to try to lead you towards something that you have not initiated. You protested when the midwife repositioned you on me because you were taking your time before your first nursing. You wouldn't let me show you how to turn your head when the sun was in your eyes, and now that you have the strength to resist us, it's one of your favorite things to do every day.
And yet, when you are ready, you just do. I should know by now that each time you refuse help you are just waiting for tomorrow to come so you can do it on your own. You have the self-assurance of not knowing the word fail, confidence in your natural path no matter how many times we push you to conform to the word we know. Why force something on the wrong day when the right one is just around the corner? As long as I trust you, you're there patiently leading me through life's hardest lessons.
Babies by their very nature are the most fearless exploratory creatures on earth. Put a world in front of you and you will set about finding your way, observing and teaching yourself all you need to know. Just because you are not doing something today does not mean that tomorrow when the moment it is put before you, you won't take it up and run with it.
Your sole purpose is to grow and explore, to learn by doing, and in doing you are teaching. Children are driven by an innate curiosity that adults have long forgotten. I truly believe that if it is important to you, you will find it in your own time, with your own rhythm. After all, you happily began to nurse the moment the midwife gave up. You eventually learned that turning your head kept the sun out of your eyes, and I can only imagine that the day will come when you decide that a toy is worth that extra effort it takes to crawl.
All this month you've been focused on your social skills, your peekaboo, your sense of humor and intentional comedy. I can spend hours watching you touch details in fabric, observe a room full of people, or study your fingernails. I see you grow a bit each day, but relationships aren't things that can be measured, so it's easy to overlook them as progress. But the more I watch you, the more I get the impression that your sincere desire to interact will be your strongest trait forever.
Our society has become obsessed with making sure children excel at everything, but why? If we are drawn to enjoy one thing over another - and with you it is socialization- then why pressure you into a lifestyle that does not fit you? I can't say for sure that you won't miss out on aspects of physical coordination, but I'm realizing that if is something important to you, it will come in time.
People don't make it easy to open up to this natural flow, though, and inaction on my behalf seems like inadequacy. You smile, you squeal, squeak and squawk, but you don't often laugh. Once when you were playing with a friend, you giggled and I smiled at that sweet sound we so rarely hear. And then the spell was broken by an onlooker suggesting that we must not laugh enough in your presence. Instead of seeing your individual expression of joy, she assumed we must have stunted your laughter.
You do laugh, you just choose to save it for special occasions.
I've gotten used to the comments about how you're not eating baby food yet. It's not hard to defend you when I can see you shudder and gag. Your body's just not ready. I can see it in your face that you're adapting to the thought of it with each tasting, ever so slowly. Babies don't lie. You'd think that would be enough to convince naysayers to end their Slightly Too Loud Conversations about mommy not offering you enough food. And don't even mention that even at eight months you detest rolling over and wallow on your belly rather than pushing up when you grumpy.
I know in my heart that believing your refusals is the best thing I can do, that one day I will offer and that will be the day you're ready, but it's hard not to doubt myself. I try to let it float over me, to remind myself that you will get there when you will, that my parenting skills are best suited helping you follow your happiness rather than pressuring you into frustration. Sometimes I find myself so caught up by external opinions, imagined or not, that I forget to listen to all you're telling me. Luckily, in those moments another parent comes by and says, Yep, mine too, and a wave of warm relief comes over me and I relax, once again reminded that you belong on your own path, as do we all.
So after tripping and stumbling my way through this month, I have slowly started pulling myself together, finding my way back to that meandering trail I chose. Once again you have reminded me to relax, not worry about yesterday or tomorrow, just to live and enjoy now. The first thing I did was to let go of things I truly had no control over. Enjoy your fuzzy head, your soft gummy mouth, remember how it feels to relish the moment. If those things will come in time without my help, then why not everything? And of course, what did you do next? You unexpectedly sprung a tooth. Well baby, you certainly do keep me on my toes.
It's been a great month of practice, and as more challenges come our way, I'll do my best to remember what I've learned so far.
Love, Mama
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