10

Hello sweet sweet Bella,

Isn't it funny how the change of seasons brings back memories with such pungency? Close your eyes for just a moment and you can transport yourself backward through time to this exact moment the last time the earth was in this position. Last year as the air warmed and spring began its customary teasing between winter days, my belly finally popped. Oh, people said, you really ARE pregnant. I had told them all along you were in there, kicking me in your tiny home, growing every moment, filling a dark, rainy winter with a warm glow that I could take everywhere.

You seemed so big, so perfect, so exactly who you ought to be when you came out. Now when I look back at those memories you are so tiny, so innocent, and so unknown. It's hard now to imagine you ever fit in there as you did, kicking around the way you still do today. You had flipped over early on, and wedged your little feet up under my rib cage, sometimes so hard you'd take my breath away and I'd push you back, requiring all my strength to move that tiny, impressive foot. Even then you hated being told what to do, and you'd just kick back all the harder.

I strapped you on the other day and realized that my coat no longer covers us both. Remember when you fit with room to spare? So, so big. You fit me in new ways now. When I pick you up, your legs wrap around my waist and you cling to me with such strength and intent, it's an indescribable feeling to know that I am still home to you. Your head now nestles onto my collar bone and my cheek rests on your soft hair. It's a new fit, and it's bound to go out of style as well, but I'm loving every moment of it.

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This was a yin-yang kind of month. One dotted with sick sleepless nights and certain lousy days, and still there was extra family time, warm weather, and gardening galore. It all evens out in the end and I'm sure we'll look back fondly on the happiness and gloss over the moments that seemed so dire in the thick of it.

It's obvious you inherited our family's esteemed sense of humor and it's so much fun to see it develop: your endless goofy faces (I'm making a point of catching them on film for you!), your little cackle, your sense of timing and imitation and your never ending study of our reactions. It has not been an easy month for us, and you are the light of our lives.

You're starting to take food, bit by little bit. Except that everything you eat goes down with a nummmmnaaaamnumnum growl, something you picked up after we started using yum!yum! to assure you these things we offer are actually edible and yummy. Now we seem to have a resident food pirate at each meal, and it cracks me up.

This month we sat on the edge of our seats waiting for you to crawl. Bit by bit you're getting mobile, and it's about darn time I baby proofed the place. You're already standing on your own, and your face lights up the moment you realize what you've done. Despite the surprise of turning around to find you feet from where I left you (and usually in some sort of mess), it's so exciting to watch you explore on your own whims, no one there to tell you how to play. I want to know what makes you tick, what interests you, where you'll go when you have no limits at all.

Ten months, here we are. So close to one year, I can feel it around every corner. And yet I still have such clear memories of our early days together. I smile to think how far we've come, and I'm baffled at the thought of the mysteries ahead of us. It's like looking up into the starry sky to feel that overwhelming sense of peacefulness and vertigo, all at once. That's you in a nutshell. My inner peace and unending vertigo.

Love,
mama