I told myself I wouldn't cry (I was wrong)

January 15, 2010

Dear Nico,

It's been six months since your birth, and I am in utter shock about it. Half a year! You continue to be the light of my life, the joy of my days. When you were small(er), I wrote about how it felt like I'd slipped into the new skin of motherhood with ease. I still feel that way, and I also believe that you've helped me become a better person. Patience is not a virtue that comes easily to me. I have never been calm or serene by nature. I have worked to foster quiet within myself for several years, and during the time that I carried you, I felt that I was finally moving toward a more calm resting state. There is a well of peace within me that I never knew existed before you arrived to gently shove aside the cover.

These feelings of serenity and contentment continue even as you become more of a whirlwind day by day. I won't say that we never have challenging times, but I nearly always find that my patience for you is deep. This probably sounds like some kind of fake, idealized, glossy-magazine version of motherhood, but I promise, being your mother really is much easier than I ever thought it would be. No one is as surprised as I am, believe me. Even when you're doing your best octopus impression on the changing table so that it's nearly impossible to get all your limbs into your pajamas, it's okay. Even when you snatch my glasses off my face or smack me with a toy as you're waving it around with wild abandon, it's okay. After a lifetime of intensity and quickly rising frustration, I suddenly find that I am a grounded person. Who knew? I hope I can say these things again in the coming months as your personality develops and you continue to assert your independence.

Before you were born, a friend told me that seeing the world through your eyes would be a wonderful gift, and she was right. Watching you discover your surroundings has been amazing, and seeing your excitement about things that we adults tend to take for granted has opened my eyes anew to the joy of small pleasures. There are so many true firsts for you...your first story time, your first swim, soon your first real foods, first crawl, first tooth, first word, first steps. I'll never be a scrapbooking, baby-book-keeping kind of mother, but I hope you never think that I didn't notice and appreciate all of your milestones and all of your bright-eyed, wonder-filled and wonderful days. I notice. I appreciate. I am so in love with you, I almost can't bear it. Happy six months, little boy. You are truly my greatest adventure.

Love,
Mama