six months//dear maddox

Dear Maddox,

Half a year. How do I even put into words everything that my heart feels in this moment? I want to be cliche and say how quickly time has swept by us and every single day I wake up and replay the first week of your life and think about how incredibly tiny you were that even socks couldn't stay on your little chicken legs and think about the Easter service where you slept in the wrap for an entire hour and then proceeded to pee out of your diaper on me during your Easter dinner. I'm going to be cliche because it is the truth. Every single day I think about how six months snuck up on me and tapped me on the shoulder when I was just sitting here, holding you close and minding my own business. I did not appreciate the people who offered their two cents (and those that continue to still offer it when they see you) and inform me that in the blink of an eye you'll be graduating high school. I did not appreciate this warning of how quickly time passes because I wanted so desperately to believe that that's just something that people say, just like people say things about the weather in order to fill those empty spaces. But it's not. It's something that people say because no one has been able to reign-in time and force the moments to last just a little longer.

I remember complaining about how long nine months seemed. I was continually looking forward to the day I would finally meet you and nine months felt like an eternity. We're well on our way to your nine month birthday and I don't exactly understand how slow and fast nine months can be. That's what time does. It ruins you and makes you cry big alligator tears when you think about all of the things that happen in six short months.

That's right. Your mama had several big meltdowns this week. Six months definitely snuck up on me. Couple that with our newest adventure of eating big kid food! and you've got one nostalgic mama who just wants to hold onto this baby stage for one more minute (and perhaps that's why you're wearing my favorite hoodie today which coincidentally is a newborn size [but it still fits so.]). I wasn't ready to start food. That and teeth. To me, those two things feel like the end of the baby stage. And I'm just not ready to let go of this precious little baby stage just yet.

But back to the meltdowns.  I cried to your daddy that I was just so sad at how quickly you were growing up. How it still feels like you were just born yesterday. How I can't stop thinking about the very last afternoon before you arrived. How we watched Sherlock in the hospital while we were waiting for you and I was too excited and nervous to sleep. How it doesn't seem possible that we have a six month old already. And do you know what he told me? He said, "But just think, he's just that much closer to saying, 'I love you,' and giving hugs and kisses." And that healed my heart; just filled it right back up. Because I know that each month I've had to shake myself from the "my baby is growing up" stronghold and look at you, just look at you. Look at all the things you can do now, like sit up and eat baby food and growl and roll over and smile at us and grab things and recognize people and know your name and I realize that no matter how enjoyable holding a sleeping infant was, each new stage where you are able to interact with us and communicate with us just gets better and better.

And sometimes your daddy just gets it. He's looking forward to wrestling with you and tossing a football around and buying you a puppy. And here I am, stuck in this stage where I just get to hold you and love you without even realizing that the best is yet to come. I know that moment when you first say, "I love you," will probably result in a month's worth of tears because I know that nothing will ever compare to that. But here's where I tell you a secret: Your dad always talks about how excited he is for your big kid days. But last night he rocked you to sleep while I did the dishes and you two shared a moment. It's been a long, long time since he's gotten to hold your still, sleeping body against his heart and I think he realized what I mean when I tell him that I'm sad about moving past this stage. Because he got to experience what I experience every single day and I think you won him back to my side (thank you) (now slow down).

So, while I'm over here being pulled in two directions over being nostalgic and being excited for your future AND still trying to live in this here moment, you learned how to sit up on your own. You ate baby cereal and carrots and loved the cereal, hated the carrots. You stopped sleeping through the night and refuse to nap unless I'm rocking you. You started laughing at us and not just when we tickle you. You started grabbing our hands to give us raspberries. You grew six and a half inches since birth and practically have the same size feet as me. You started reaching for things and those things you reach for inevitably end up in your mouth. You found your feet and those end up in your mouth, too.


I mean, who doesn't want to cuddle a miniature human all the days? But I would so much rather sit on the floor and play with your horsey and roll over and over and over and bounce in your bouncy chair and play peek a boo and toss you in the air and hear your sweet voice laughing and talking and singing.

I've learned a lot of things in these short six months. But maybe the greatest lesson you've taught me is about love. I'm not talking about the kind of love that I have for you. You were created in my womb, I carried you for nine months, I felt your kicks and stretches and hiccups. Of course I love you with every fiber of my being because every fiber of my being worked to create, grow and nourish you. Of course. What I'm talking about is your love for everyone else. I noticed it a few weeks ago when a girl I'm not too fond of came up to see you. I was short with her questions and comments, wishing her away because she was bothering me. But you, you sweet boy, you smiled and cooed and flirted with her. There wasn't a single ounce of judgement against her. And that was incredibly beautiful and eye opening and embarrassing--that a baby could show compassion and love that I, an adult, could not. Evan and I always pray that our marriage and relationship toward each other (and you) would be a positive force in your life. That we would be a good example for you. But life isn't just about the relationships inside the walls of our little home. So my new prayer is that we would be an example of all relationships for you: Both friends and strangers.

I pray you never stop being kind. I pray that I could learn that love and kindnes from you and that when you are old enough to pass judgement on others for any reason at all, that you would remember the way that your father and I loved others, just as Jesus does. I'm working on it. But above all, I want you to know how much you are loved, and I want you to love others in return. "We love because He first loved us." You never stop loving others, little love. Never stop.

I love you past the moon and the stars, forever and ever.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Mama