First things first. I stole this idea from another blog. Your momma is unique, but maybe not so original.
So you turned 4 months old yesterday. I always thought I would be one of those moms that would keep track of all the early days, how you change, your “firsts”. I kept meaning to start and then more weeks would pass and my recollections couldn’t keep up with your daily showstopping. So in my head I just keep it all compartmentalized.
There are those first weeks where you had a full beautiful head of dark hair and you were relatively little, even though people liked to tell me how big you were. You’re my only baby so you were little to me. You had long, lean chicken legs and I thought, silly me, that you might keep them and wouldn’t that be crazy. You demonstrated your loud shrieky cry even then and the midwives in the hospital nursery would often return you to our room where daddy slept on a foldaway bed and I was happy on pain meds. When we brought you back to our flat just blocks from the hospital, you fit right in. Nursing was hard and long but I remember more how we would just sit around in awe that you were so handsome, so intelligent and you were ours.
Those weeks turned into new ones where it started to feel good and not scary to venture out. I can’t say I enjoy carrying the stroller/buggy up and down the stairs of our building but you know, it feels good to work for you. You were only 3 weeks old when I started cooking and cleaning again. That’s how I’ll remember the beginning- just a threesome. We brought you everywhere- friends’ houses, pubs, restaurants, all over London when people would visit. You mostly slept and looked adorable. You have been beyond showered with gifts and love.
All of the sudden, you were doing something every day. Turning your head, tracking us, smiling, babbling, reaching for things, holding your head up, trying to roll over, laughing. Losing your first hair and no longer crying in the bath. It makes me deliriously excited to watch your personality unfold and I can imagine only how much fun we will have. You keep me in check. You let me slide when I buckled your chubby thigh into the stroller belt and when I clipped your fingernail and it flew into your eye. I guess payback is the decibel of your shrieks, especially in the dressing room at Zara. I don’t think a single thing has made me sad except maybe the day I had to move you from the Moses basket to a mini-crib/cot. But I can handle the bigger clothes and diapers/nappies because we get so much in return.
It turns out, I have no idea what kind of mom I am. Some days I am patient and entertaining and can’t kiss your face enough. And you let me. Oh to have no physical ability to withstand your parent. Other days I wear my pajamas until noon and make you watch Oprah on the Slingbox with me. Shhh Jonah, we are learning about hoarders.
But so far, here we are. Both alive, both safe, both in love. I have big dreams for you. In them, you love your family and we are your confidants and the people you can count on most of all. In them, you are surrounded by great friends. In them, you are so happy.
Sometimes when you laugh, a teeny reminder pops into my head. Yael, remember how this looks. Yael, keep this image in your heart forever. Keep it through the very tough nights, teething, food-throwing and back-talking. Keep it vigilantly through the teenage years. The open mouth, the shape of it. The big, outstretched grin of gums. And the bright, blue eyes. Today Jonah, you only have possibility.
I love you.