Five months (and one day) later

Dear Sweet Bella,

Here we are at the end of summer, and what a summer it has been. This is the first of many many letters that I hope to write you in your lifetime. I couldn't find the right words for the last few months, but now I realize that it doesn't truly matter what I write, but that I write for you. You won't remember this amazing babyhood that passes so quickly and I'm bound to forget the details, so these letters will remember it for both of us.


It's hard to imagine that you are now five months old! I can say that the adjustment period of welcoming you home is over. It seems like you have always been around and I find myself wondering what I did with my time before you joined us. I thought I would always be looking forward to the next stage with you, when you will finally be talking, walking, or playing. Instead, I'm enjoying you just as you are each day and it's a blessing to live this way.


This month we grew side by side and got to know each other even better. Daddy found your sense of humor in the evenings, the two of you growling back and forth at each other, eating each other's necks. You already have him wrapped around your finger. It's hard not to fall for you when you take such obvious joy in seeing him after a long day with me or when he spins you through the air like a plane.


Last month you hit so many milestones it was crazy. We were trying to keep up with you rolling over and standing up and sitting up and laughing. This month you decided to perfect standing and wanted nothing to do with anything else. You decided that rolling over is useless, since in the end you are still lying down.


And until you learn to stop kicking out your legs when you get excited, sitting up on your own will remain a distant dream. So stand you do. Sometimes I think you might just skip crawling and go right on to loitering.


Of course, it hasn't been a perfect month. We took you for shots on your four month birthday, something I always hate doing. They made you quite ill, cranky, feverish, and rashy for days. I hugged you for a week straight. Just as I was getting over the guilt and we were finding our stride again, the whole family caught a cold. I wanted to curl up and hide til it was over like I'm used to doing. But we made it through, you and me. Somehow I managed to suck it up for you, my first taste of the superhuman abilities that come with mommydom. You are just now getting back to your fun loving self, and I am procrastinating your next shots. I don't want my happy baby to disappear again. I just got you back.


You and I have been taking walks to pick blackberries every other day. You're still enamored with the green all around. It's also fun reading to you now that you actually take interest in the books. In fact, you try to steal them from me and thwart me from turning the page. Your hands have been your favorite entertainment since you figured out that each finger moves individually, and you can use them to transport things to your mouth.


As I write this, you are snoozing on me, finally passed out after your already-late bed time. You continue to resist any form of sleep, crying right up til you fall asleep. The world is too exciting for you to waste time sleeping and nursing.


When I get home from work you'd fly right out of Daddy's arms if you could. You sure try. When you're hungry, you lunge yourself at me. You scrunch up and growl and use your whole body to project yourself the few inches between you and happy sustenance. And I smile every time as your eyes flutter while you chug chug chug because you just can't get it fast enough. Two hours without booba is just way too long and there's no time to waste breathing. Then when you've satisfied the craving, you pop off, drunken milky grin dripping from ear to ear. After you've filled your eyes as well as your belly and you're about to burst with the joy of it, your dive back down with a smirk and burrow in. Hiding your face in my shirt is a well-practiced move and you use it any time you start overflowing with smiles. Coy little thing, you are. Happy five months, sweet pea.

Love,
mama