Time flies

Dear Gabrielle,

I've had a letter to you floating around in my head for quite some time, and I'm sure that what I write here won't be nearly as eloquent as those gray matter compositions. But I want to give it a shot before it's too late.

You see, my dear, you are growing by leaps and bounds every single day. I can still remember holding your foot up to my pinky and marveling at how it only spanned two knuckles. I remember supporting your entire body with the palm of my hand. I remember nursing you in the football hold using nothing by my elbow to support the weight of your body. You are now five months old. Your foot is getting to be as long as my entire ring finger. I require two arms to hold you, and I have to find support to nurse you.

There are so many things that I'll never see again. I remember when you discovered your hands. The first time you smiled. When you discovered your laugh. When I no longer had to hold your head. You've done all this so fast, and I am so proud of you for it.

Your Daddy looks forward to the days when you can walk and talk. I must confess to you, Little One, that I am apprehensive for those days. You see, the day you learn to walk, you will never stop walking. I will never again see you squirm forward on the bed, tugging at the sheets or carpet to move forward (ingenious, by the way). I will never again see you crawl awkwardly. You will always walk. And when you talk, you will never again coo sweetly at me or make an excited, breathy "whoo!" noise when you see something you like. And I will miss that.

Little One, I am excited at the girl you will become, but I will very much miss the baby that you currently are. You see, although you will always be my little girl, you will only be a baby for a few more months, and after that, you will cease being a baby forever. I don't want to forget how precious you are now. How your smile brightens my day, even when I'm sad. How you giggle at everything because, to you, it really is new and exciting. That you need me for everything. I must carry you around and I must feed you and bathe you. I never would have guessed that I would want someone to depend on me to that degree, but something about you... I will miss all of it when it's over.

I knew the moment I saw you on the ultrasound monitor that I loved you. That you were perfect and sassy and absolutely amazing. The thought of my first sight of you can still bring tears to my eyes. My world changed when I saw you that day, and my world continues to change because of you. And while I can't wait until I can hold your hand and walk through life with you - I will miss cradling you in my arms as I nurse you, stroking your fuzzy brown head and looking into those gray eyes of yours as you gulp and murmur and thrash your feet as you eat.

I will miss your uninhibited burps and farts. Your spontaneous yelps and coos. Your sheer delight at being startled. The grunty faces you get as you do your business. Your fascination with our ceiling fan (you know, George). And the look of total ad unconditional recognition and love that you give me when our eyes meet.

You smile everytime you see me, and I despair at the thought that there will come a day that you won't do that. You cling to me when you're sad or scared or hungry or tired, and I cry inside when I realize that you won't always do that. I know that is a part of you growing up, Gabrielle. Just don't grow up too soon.

I love you the way you are today. That will always be true; when you're six months, two years, or 20 years. I will always love you the way you are.

I hope you are sleeping well, Chick Pea. I'm off to bed to join you.

Love always,
Mami