Dear Bella,
Once upon a time
you were very little and you fit in the nook of my armpit. Actually, that used to be your favorite way to sleep. Once you got over your colic and we could lie down at night, you always ended up there, no matter how far away you started out. As you got taller, we grew into one another so that you were always the perfect fit.
In the months before Lillia was born I was panicking because you had become attached to me like never before. In the middle of the night you would wake up screaming and even if I was ten inches away, you cried as if the world were ending right then and there.
Now Lia spends many hours a day in my arms and you are in a Daddy phase. He does bedtime, and when you wake up at night no one can calm you but him. If he's not in bed, you wander out into the dark of the house, plodding along behind your sleepy feet, calling out for him. You always have been a Daddy's girl.
Last week you woke up from a nightmare and wanted to sleep on my front like you used to. I cherish the quiet cuddle times you give me now, as they are few and far between. But instead of resting on my breast, your head came up so high over my shoulder that you couldn't get comfortable. How did that happen?
I don't know where we stand right now, you and me. We are at such a crossroad. Oh how I love you; oh how you make me work for it. You fell so hard this month and all you wanted to feel better were nursies, forget that it's been almost three months since you even asked last. I knew you still wouldn't remember how to nurse, but something with that familiar position, lying sideways, looking up from that familiar angle set you at ease.
At the beginning I used to compare Lia's nursing to yours. Now even looking at a photo of you nursing I can just barely remember. I sat there holding you, completely lost; I might as well have had a giant teenager stretched across my lap. I had no idea how much you had grown and I didn't know how to make you fit.
We're both working on that. Where do we fit? Whatever Lia is doing, you want to do the second she stops. Sometimes you're her big sister, and sometimes you just want to be the baby. You've even invented your own gibberish language just like a baby. (Thanks to nightly recitations of
Fox in Sox.) The rest of the time it's amazing to hear what you have to tell me. You say
So, um, incessantly and are perfecting my exasperated sigh. You call the tassels on your hat
fingers, and your free flowing speech gives us amazing an insight into a world where nothing is boxed in. Just the other day you recognized when we rounded the corner to the cousins' house, and you know when you are in our neighborhood, too. If you are walking, you're dancing, and if you're dancing you're jumping. Your world is outstanding.
When I picked you up for nursies that day, I guess I hadn't realized how long it had been since you let me really hold you. I don't ever want you to feel so foreign to me. From now on, we'll grow up together.
Love, mama
PS. Don't blame daddy for the focus on this shot. He got the focus just right in all the ones where you are rolling your eyes at me and stuffing crackers in my face. Maybe he just loves my snazzy ponytail.
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