nine months

i remember last year at thanksgiving. i was waddling through a grocery store trying to find some last minute ingredients. i remember the day so well. i was big. i was tired. i was so ready to meet you. and i knew it wouldn't be very long.

i was so genuinely thankful. thankful that you were healthy. thankful for a relatively easy pregnancy. thankful that every doctor's appointment validated that you had strong heartbeats and you were so active and so alive and so well.

i remember being in love. again. with this little bug that was kicking inside my belly and who was becoming a part of my heart.

there was really no doubt. i loved you. and it made me grateful.

but i didn't know the details. i didn't know your face. i didn't know who you were. i didn't know specifically what about you i loved so much and what you'd do to me.

so today i am thankful for the details. i am thankful that i know who you are at nine months old. i can't believe that the you who was in my belly is the same you who are here with me today. knowing you is the best. the details. i love that there are nine months of details.

thank you God. thank you for knitting and forming and molding him into who is is now and into who he will be in the future. thank you so, so much. You gave me such a miraculous gift. and i can't seem to put him into words. so thank you for his sweet, big brown eyes and amazing lashes. thank you for his soft skin. thank you for his crazy hair and big head. thank you for his sweet snuggles. thank you for his loud squeals and prominent voice. thank you that he loves to giggle and be close to us. thank you that he is tough and strong. thank you that he loves to stand when supported and crawl backwards. thank you that he loves his toys and watches the same baby einstein video over and over again. thank you for his chubby cheeks and full lips. thank you that he will sit in his high chair and try every flavor of baby food we give him. thank you that he is such a love bug in the mornings. thank you that he clings to us when he's sad. thank you that he is so funny and his laugh is the most hilarious thing ever. thank you for his smiles that are quirky and cute and just so him. thank you for his pathetic but cute frown. thank you for that feeling. thank you that we get to be his parents.

caleb b. we've had nine months with you and i have to tell you, you've stolen my heart. it's yours. you light up my world. today i am thankful that the boy i loved a year ago is you. because you exceed any hope and any expectation of what i had imagined. thank you Lord.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

can you believe it?

guess who slept through the night?

US!

oh yeah. and him.



beautiful, sweet, uninterrupted sleep. it was heavenly. (okay, i admit. i did wake up once to make sure he was breathing. it was just a little too quiet in there.)

cry it out

you and me and crying.

we have an eight month history that seems epic. you have brought out in me the rawest of mommy emotions through our tears.

first. i will never, ever, could not even for a moment, forget the first time you cried. it ranks right up there with the best moments in all of my life. you, this little man, that was living and growing in my belly, actually came out and uttered your first sweet, precious, little cries. i didn't even have time to react. my heart erupted in sobs. because there you were after all that time. you were healthy and well and - oh my gosh - the idea that i loved so much was actually there in front of me right before my eyes. and it was okay that you were crying because i understood. it was all i could do, too.

and then. when being a mom proved harder than i knew. when i wasn't quite sure i was equipped to care for the sweetest little man. when i thought other moms might be more instinctual or natural or better at doing what i was supposed to do. we took you into the doctor's office soon after your birth to get your first shot. the doctor was loving and gentle as she poked your newborn skin. you were at first shocked by the poke, then you started to realize the pain. your sweet little mouth turned downward and you sobbed like i'd never seen. and in that moment, i felt whatever you were feeling. i felt your fear and worry and pain. and i wanted to take it away. i cried with you caleb b and i knew so much that it was because i loved you and because i was your mom. i was your mom. it felt like the biggest honor in the world to wrap you in my arms and tell you it would be okay.

and finally, there was a time. you were less than two weeks old. your dad was at work and i was home with you. you were crying as you did so often. i was using every trick in the book to try and soothe you but nothing was working. nothing. for like an hour. finally, i gave up. i surrendered. i prayed. and i held you close. your tears meshed with mine and we didn't know whose were whose. we just sat there for i don't know how long, crying together. oh caleb. i loved you so much and wanted to make everything okay for you. but it was then that i knew that it was okay for you to cry. that was your only language and no matter how much it hurt me to hear you use it, i had to get used to it.

so here we are. with another challenge looming.

you don't sleep through the night at eight months old. and i know that isn't terrible and really, we have all been dealing with the interrupted sleep just fine. but i know it will be better for you and for us to have you sleep longer and more consistently.

everyone i know has told me to let you cry it out. every single person. not one single soul has told me it was a bad idea. and i know they are right. you are a tough little man. you will be okay. you will cry it out and be just fine.

but i won't promise that i won't cry alongside you. i won't pretend my heart doesn't break to see you sad and to hear you cry out for us.

but as we have done in the past, we will cry it out together and persevere.

360

this little man used to hate baths.

with a passion.

he used to fight and kick and scream.

and i used to dread them, thinking that i was torturing my child every time i tried to get him clean.

i know now.

it just takes time. what he hated in the beginning he now loves. he loves it so much that even after the longest day in the world, giving caleb a bath just makes our day.

it didn't seem possible seven months ago.

but thank you Lord for every little thing that just got easier.

eight months.

jocelyn k brown photography

Dear Caleb,

Most moms think their kids grow up too fast and I’m no exception. But when you turned eight months I found myself wondering how in the world it has only been eight months. Because you are so much a part of my life and world and heart . . . and it seems like you always have been.

Here’s who you are at eight months.

You are learning baby sign language. And by “learning” I mean we sign to you and you look at us like we’re crazy.

You can pull yourself up.

You have two, precious little bottom teeth.

You are so active, always moving, looking around, rolling over, and grabbing things. We have to hold onto you tightly and watch you closely at all times.

You still make really, really loud noises. Sometimes at inopportune times.

You have a new car seat and look like such a little man when you look out the window and study your surroundings.

Sophie and Dotters. Still your main people.

You say mama!

You say dada, too.

You love to dance.

You love when we bounce you on our knee.

You are outgrowing your mobile. Instead of peacefully watching it go in circles above your head, you reach up and try to pull it down.

You are sleeping unswaddled. I will miss the baby burrito. So much.

You are a champ on road trips. Not that you don’t complain sometimes, but you are still a trooper.

You love the water. You splash and play and kick and it’s so much fun to watch. Hard to imagine there was ever a time that you hated baths.

You go crazy when you first see us after work. Arms are flailing, legs are kicking and you scream with delight.

You still don’t sleep through the night.

You still love Saturday mornings.

You love it when your dad “walks” you to sleep.

Your laugh is the funniest thing in the world.

Eight months. In just eight months, I've experienced what seems like a lifetime of emotions. I get to care for, nurture and love you every day and that has brought me more joy than I know what to do with. I honestly don't know how I got so blessed. I know what I have is a gift and I pray that I never take it for granted. I love being a mom. I love being YOUR mom. And I love you, Caleb B. So very, very much.

Love,

Mom