Dear September (Or, Now That You’re Five Months Old)

It’s your mom here. You don’t know me by that name yet. I don’t think you have any sort of name for me other than the outstretch of your arms, the grin on your face when you see me, and the furious way you stick out your tongue when you’re near my breasts. You know me as these things now at five months old. I know you by your brownish, blondish, reddish hair with the bald spot in the back. I know you by the way you grunt in your sleep and “eh, eh, eh” when you’re getting frustrated, or want to be held, or are getting hungry, or have a dirty diaper (or, or, or.) Funny. When I used dictation software to write and you make that “eh” sound, the computer writes it out as “or, or, or.”

I know you by your deep blue eyes and long lashes, a combination that is bound to make some boy or girl fall in love with you one day. I know that you like to nap without any pants on and that you’d much prefer to be hanging out in your diaper than deal with any pesky clothes. I know that you think it’s hilarious when Daddy runs your hand over his goatee and when I nibble your fingers and toes. You blow raspberries all day long and love the sound of your own voice, making new noises that test the range of your vocal abilities.

I know how warm you feel tucked in my arms. Already, you hang off my lap when I feed you. Just five months ago, the entirety of you fit on my lap, folded into the length of one arm. Now you’re big and getting bigger. I’m starting to understand how fast time rolls past us. While we’re caught up in the day-to-day struggles, trying to snatch as much sleep as we can, we forget to stop, breathe, and look. You’re growing up already. You’ll always be growing up. The thought of it fills me with pride and a bittersweet pang of letting go. One day. One day, I’ll have to let you go from my protective arms.

But not today. You are my sweet little baby. You’re perfect as all babies are perfect. You’re healthy and covered in rolls. Your thighs and neck are areas your dad and I love the most.

Most of all, you fill me with such joy. I want to hold you close and treasure you. Already, you want to get going. You want to explore. When you were born, you were pushing away from my chest, trying to lift your head. You were so strong. Still are. You’re trying to learn how to crawl now that rolling is no big deal. You want to move to everything you can, touch everything, put everything in your mouth. You’re my little explorer, fighting to capture the entire world all at once.

I’m just trying to keep up and trying not to let the damage of my past affect our future. I want to be a good mommy. I want to be someone you look up to, not run away from.

But those are concerns for another day. Today, I celebrate hugging you, kissing you, and discovering new ways to make you laugh and wave your arms in glee.

Love,

Mommy

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