six months

Dear Caleb,

So without sounding cliché, I have to start by telling you that I can’t believe how quickly time goes by. I am writing to my six month old. MY SIX MONTH OLD. I can’t believe the baby I brought home from the hospital is the baby you now are. I feel like I blink and you grow, do something new or hit a milestone I was sure would be months away. When I go back and look at newborn pictures, I can’t believe the little bug who needed us for everything is the same little bug who now sits up on his own and eats solid food with a spoon.

To think. Six months ago, I was laying on an operating table and I heard you cry for the first time. I couldn’t see you, but I heard you. And just that, just the sweet sound of your little cry changed my life. And you have been doing amazing things to my heart ever since.

Here’s who you are at six months:

You are a little comedian. You love to laugh and make us laugh. Your giggle is so cute and funny and contagious. Sometimes, you laugh so hard I’m afraid that you won’t catch your breath. But you always do.

You want to suck on everything and put EVERYTHING in your mouth. We think you are teething, which must be such a strange feeling for you. But it will be so cute to see you with a little tooth.

You love green beans! And pretty much every vegetable you’ve tried. As a mommy who hates her vegetables, I couldn’t be more happier about this.

You love playing with toys. We’ll sit you in your Bumbo or on the couch and put a bunch of toys in front of you and you have so much fun just observing, exploring and of course, sticking it all in your mouth. You are so interested and aware of things.

You are also developing a little attachment thing with your mom and dad. These days you want to be held more than usual or you have a harder time going to other people when we are in the room.

Your best buds are still Sophie and Dotters and that puppet on Baby Einstein.

You have started giving us hugs. Or at least I choose to believe you are hugging me. You’ll put your arms on the top on my shoulders and nuzzle your head into my neck. And I want to freeze time in these moments.

You are a crazy kicker. Crazy. When you are lying down and get excited about something, you’ll laugh like a crazy person, kick furiously into the air, and move your head and arms back and forth. Almost as if you are trying to run.

You love day care. You still have yet to cry once when I drop you off. And your teachers adore you. They call you handsome and all the ladies marvel at your long lashes. (I am jealous of your lashes on a daily basis.)

You are fascinated with other babies and little kids. You always want to join in when they are playing.

You get startled kind of easily. You freak out if someone sneezes too loud or if a sound catches you off guard (like a crowd cheering suddenly during a Husky game IN A BAR . . . yes, you can blame your dad for that one).

At your six month appointment, the doctor said you were growing beautifully … average for weight, 74th percentile for height and 92nd percentile for head circumference. Hopefully this means you will be really smart.

For as much as you’ve grown and changed over these past months, I feel like I have, too. I am not the same person I was on February 28. It feels as though my heart has doubled in size and it’s still not big enough to hold all the love I have for you. You make me laugh, you make me better understand grace, and you remind me every day how generous and loving and good God is.

I feel so blessed that you are who you are. And that I get to forever be your mom.

Love,
Mom