A Letter To My Five Month Old

My sweet Vivian,

You are five months old, dear girl! You’re getting big before my very eyes and I’m not sure if I’m even ready for that, but you leave me no choice except to adjust. I probably say this every month, but I can’t believe how different you look and act these days.

First of all, you are so much bigger! You haven’t been weighed since your four month appointment where you topped out at a big nine pounds, but I know you’re steadily gaining. Your eyes no longer seem to take up half your face; your cheeks are catching up now. And oh, those cheeks.

The smiles you give so readily are priceless! I love it so much-the joy in your bright blue eyes and toothless grin. You aren’t yet tainted by the world and its problems. You haven’t been disappointed by anyone yet or suffered from hurt feelings-you just have your free, happy spirit.

Taken 9/23/12, before a family hike.

Your interaction with us is getting so fun! I love that I can make faces at you and you’ll mimic the big smiles, and poke your little tongue out when we stick out ours. You’re still a morning person like your mama and you greet the day with smiles, unless we don’t pay attention to you soon enough, and then you’re irate at the fact that you’re hungry NOW and you wanted food TWENTY MINUTES AGO AND WHERE IS IT?

You use your hands a lot more these days. Mostly to stick in your mouth.  Usually it’s just two fingers, but when you’re really ambitious you go for three. You also have learned to pull the toys on your playmat and stick our fingers in your mouth to slobber on. I think teeth are in your very near future.

Let’s talk about the squealing. You’re part pterodactyl, part banshee, part baby. You’ve found your vocal cords, that’s for sure. The squeals are intense; they sometimes last up to hour at a time right now. My ears and head beg you to stop, but I can’t help but smile when you follow a huge squeal with an even bigger grin. What’s a mama to do but smile back, despite the throbbing pain in my head? I’m so glad you’re finding your voice-and baby, don’t lose it, even when you get older and people criticize you or make fun of what you say-but could you maybe tone it down a little? Mama wasn’t prepared for it to begin so soon.

A year ago today, we found out that your arrival was imminent. I had no idea that I was pregnant. (And I’m sorry if this will one day gross you out, but the reality is your father and I did have a life both together and separately before you came and we did enjoy it. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.)  I didn’t feel any major symptoms other than being even more hot-natured than normal.  In fact, just the week before I took a test, I went to see my primary doctor, partially for a physical but mostly for baby doctor recommendations in preparation for having a baby in a year or so. Clearly my Type A personality was clear to her and she saw how anxious I was at the prospect of it taking several months to get pregnant.  I remember her saying, "Who knows, you might even be pregnant now!"
"Yeah, that's funny," I thought to myself. I mean, I was experiencing full-blown PMS symptoms, mopiness and all. I figured that, being the obeservant person that I was, I would probably know very quickly-within days-that I was pregnant. That was on Thursday.

By that weekend, I figured that I might take a test on Wednesdsay. Well, I thought about it all weekend and decided that I couldn't wait until Wednesday and that Tuesday would give me accurate enough results. Monday night I dreamt I was pregnant, and so I awoke very early on Tuesday. It was just before 6am that day. I quietly got out of bed, opened the box of three tests, and did my business. I put off looking at the test for a couple of minutes like you would avoid looking at the Christmas gift you stumbled upon before it was wrapped. I just couldn’t handle the letdown of not being pregnant after I’d thought that in August I was.

But lo and behind, in as much glory as a stick that you pee on can muster, I saw two little lines. I looked and blinked and looked again, making sure I wasn't imagining things. I felt a flurry of warm tears that passed before they even managed to escape and began grinning from ear to ear.

My intent was to sneak back into bed and regain my composure before telling your father. But here’s what I heard upon my entry to our bedroom: “Carter? What was it?”
                “It’s positive! I’m pregnant,” I managed to squeal. I won’t tell you what his response was, but I’d say shock was the primary reaction.

Clearly it wasn’t even possible to go back to sleep and so we got up for the day. We took a shower and I sat in the bathroom, peaking from around the curtain and watching your dad’s response. I don’t remember much about getting dressed or anything else, I just remember your father shaving for what seemed like an endless amount of time. I think it was fifteen minutes, but it’s safe to say that he sloughed off several unsuspecting layers of skin as he began to process the information.

The disbelief and excitement I felt at that moment, that day, that first week-it was so wonderful. I hadn’t expected it to happen that easily. Truth be told, you came early in every sense of the word. We didn’t plan to have a baby until Fall 2012, right around now. You were supposed to come after Dad’s racing season, after the spring mini-marathon for me, after summer vacations. But we couldn’t contain you. From the beginning you were full of life, living up to the meaning of your name.

I’m already so proud of you and I look forward to what the new days bring. Parenting isn’t for the faint of heart, and my journey has only just begun. Thanks for the trip so far, Vivi. And happy five months on this earth.

Love always,

Mama