Four Months

Little Girl,

Another month has marched by. Today you are four months old.

Four months. You are now fourteen pounds. You have lost your fragility, but are still so small. You can't yet speak, but you can certainly communicate. You have lost most of the hair you were born with and now your head is covered in white blond fuzz. Your eyes are blue, a bold hue, and continue to brighten. Your smile is sweet, and wise. You are already a keen observer, following your sisters as they skip around you, noticing the patterns on pillows and the leaves on trees. You have rolled over a few times which makes me at once proud and sad. Proud that you are making progress. Sad that it is happening so fast. Because it is.

Truth be told, you are a tricky one. As tricky as you are beautiful. At this point, you are quite the Mama's girl. Some babies are mellow and can be passed around and will coo at whomever cuddles them. You are not just some baby. These days, I am the only one who can get you to drink your bottle, and can soothe you quickly, bringing your cheeks back from that shocking magenta to soft pink.

This is hard. Because I feel utterly tethered.

But this is wonderful. Because I feel utterly tethered.

Secretly, I hope you stay a bit of a Mama's Girl. I hope I continue to comfort you and keep you calm. I hope I keep getting those early morning prize smiles and late night nuzzles. I hope you don't grow up too quickly, and become independent too fast.

But I know you will. Because that's the way it works. You will grow up and away. You will become your own person, strong and smart and sassy. Just like your sisters. I know how this happens because I have lived it twice before you. One moment you are small, on your back on a playmat kicking your chubby legs, and the next you are up and at 'em, running fast, evolving, becoming free.

On Monday, we celebrated your first Independence Day. I put you in a silly, scratchy little star-strewn outfit from Target and your Little Sister sun hat. We took you to a parade. I walked you away and covered your ears as the canons fired. You were tired and hungry and warm and screamed bloody murder while I bopped you and sweat through my navy-striped tee. It was a tough morning, but even as I lived it, I celebrated it, this time, this tangle, this dependence that will too quickly flee.

I love you, tiny thing. You make me a wee bit crazy and a whoa bit tired, but I adore every ounce of you. Thank you for the continuing and complicated privilege that is being your mother.

Love,

Mommy

______________________________

Do you both struggle with, and celebrate, the fact that someone depends so mightily on you? Do you agree that in many ways when it comes to parenthood every day is "independence day" insofar as our kids grow more and more independent by the day? Do you remember your kids at four months? If so, what were they up to?