A rare moment of stillness
When I was newly pregnant with you, the nurse pulled out the doppler and asked if we wanted to hear your heart beat.We had seen the tiny flicker of your heart on the ultrasound but had not heard it. She cautioned that we may not be able to, that it may be too soon. And if that was the case it did not indicate a problem, it was just too soon.
Your father and I passed each other loaded looks. This was hardly casual to us. We had lost a previous pregnancy at 5 months, discovering it by a silent doppler. We were nervous about heart beats.
The moment that she placed the doppler on my stomach we heard the loud rhythmic pounding of your heart. The nurse chuckled “better get ready to chase this one.”
That was the first prediction made about you, the first indication of your personality. And she was sooooo correct. You have been on the move for since beginning to crawl 6 weeks ago, and you have yet to take a pause. From the moment your eyes pop open, to the second they begrudgingly close for the day, you are in motion.
I feel like this has caused a bit of a battle between us, placing us at cross purposes. For example sometimes I want to change your diaper and you want to roll off the changing table, and see if you can rip the painting off the wall at the same time. Sometimes I want you to put clothes on you, and you want to do head stands and leap off the bed. Sometimes I want to nurse you. You want to nurse too, but only if said nursing includes ninja kicks and high fives to the other boob.
The worst of all offences has to be suctioning out your nose. This might be the torture that future therapy sessions are based on. I literally have to pin you down, you hate it so. But if it is not done you sound like a snoring bull-dog, and you can’t breathe or nurse due to your lingering cold.
You have just started gingerly taking steps, gripping the sides of objects with your hands. You have also been practicing standing for a few seconds, grinning, practically beaming ” look, no hands.” These experiments with gravity don’t always end well, but you have such fierce determination that there is not much I can do. Although purchasing you a helmet has been discussed.
In the last month you have gone from looking like a giant baby, to looking like a tiny boy. You have thinned out a little and the big news is; you now have a neck. Certain people never achieve necks, so you should be proud!
Your personality becomes more evident everyday. It was always there but now that you can express yourself more we can all enjoy your delight and energy. You have been your radiant self, from those very first solid, booming heat beats. Getting to watch you unfold everyday is my greatest privilege. I love you.