Dear Veronica,
Yesterday you turned 7 months old.
7 months. An age I hadn't even considered. You are truly no longer a baby. I can't believe how fast it's all happened. When I was pregnant and I thought about my future, the one in which I would be "a mom with a baby," it never occurred to me that you wouldn't always be a baby. In my imagination whole years of having this "baby" unfurled, months of toting around a little papoose, days and endless days of swaddling and nursing, and stacks of tiny diapers.
But all of that has begun to dissipate. The baby in you is ebbing. You are becoming a little person, nudging and eeking out your place in this world. You have a wonderful amount of determination for such a little thing. I hope it continues long into your adulthood. Determination is a good thing.
Now that you have discovered your own strength the days of you complacently sitting on my lap are over. You are on the MOVE, crawling, climbing, standing, never wanting to sit still, not when you can dive head first into your toy chest or sneak up on a sleeping cat.
You weigh almost 19 pounds and your hair is finally beginning to grow, sweet little tufts of it puffing out over your ears in the most ridiculous way. Our favorite nicknames for you this month are Bugaroo, Veronica Sweets & Spices and Bed Dragon...because you are ALWAYS in our bed. Oh kid, this sleep thing better improve soon or we're sending you to live with your grandparents in Ohio.
You also had your first Christmas, where you played with all 5 of your cousins, you continued growing those tiny teeth (PLEASE unlearn how to bite me while nursing), you've tried all kinds of food, none of which you are terribly interested in, and you had your first trip to the ER for a double ear infection. And you got a pretty new nursery.
But this month, sweet little bug, this is the month in which you truly fell in love with your Daddy.
I think you always liked him, but now you adore him. Each day when we hear the backdoor open, signaling his return from work, we stand up and head towards the kitchen. Who's that, I whisper to you as we listen to him take off his boots, hang up his winter coat. Is that him? You squint through the distance, your lips pursing in anticipation. Is that him? And then as he comes into view your eyes widen and a smile breaks across your face, a little ohhh, emerging in your sweet voice. It is him! You reach your arms out and your daddy scoops you up, his face lighting up too.
It struck me the other morning that he is the man against which you will measure all other men. I can hardly describe what it felt like to realize that. I was filled with such gratitude, with such pride and with peace of mind. I mean, you would hope that I would think that since I married the man, but it wasn't what I was thinking about when I made that decision. And realizing this the other morning I felt such a profound sense of relief. As though, if I've done anything right by you as a mother, it was in choosing your father.
I thought about the way in which I knew my father, about the ways I loved him, and about the ways he taught me about the world. I thought about the things he left me with, the influence he had on my idea of men, of parenting, and of love. And then I thought about how the man who you will feel this way about is Greg, and for that I am so very glad.
Anyway, I have to close now because you are due to awake from a nap any minute now. In this next month I would like much more of the same, with maybe a bit more babbling and slightly less biting.
With all my love,
Mom
