Lydia,
I'm not sure how it's been so long since I've written. I'm not sure where the time has gone. Being your Momma has been so completely different than what I anticipated. You have pushed me at every turn, challenged every idea I've ever had about motherhood, babies, goals, sanity, priorities, and life. I don't know how to make up for the lost time. I don't know how to go back and tell you all of the parts that I haven't recorded from your first year of life.
Here's what I can tell you:
You are tenacious. So.incredibly.tenacious. I remember watching you at less than two months literally screaming with exertion as you tried to roll over. It was evident even then that you are a fighter, and you've fought pretty much every moment since.
You are emotional. Oh.my.goodness.SOOOemotional. When you are happy and excited you could light the world on fire with your grin and dancing eyes, when you are hurt either physically or emotionally your pain is so clearly evident in your heart wrenching cries, and when you are mad...WATCHOUT because the kicking, screaming, fighting with all you've got is FIERCE.
You are sensitive. I don't just mean emotionally attuned, although that is accurate as well. Literally, your senses are on high alert every second of the day. Lights and sights, smells, tastes, the touch of even your clothes on your skin, and oh sounds...the sound sensitivity is amazing. I always thought the "pin drop" phrase was just a figure of speech, until the day you woke from a sound sleep because I literally dropped an ink pen clear across the house. Someday I know that your ability to pick up on every little thing will serve you so well, but as for now it makes it awfully difficult for anyone to ever get any sleep!
You are the sweetest, silliest, most precocious little girl I've ever known. Waking me up with mooches every morning, hugging and patting your brother when he's hurt, whimpering because you don't want him to leave the very second your Daddy thinks about getting ready for work. Bouncing, hiding, swinging, rocking, and being upside down in every imaginable circumstance. Rolling early, crawling earlier, walking early, running and jumping earlier, signing, speaking, mixing signing and speaking to inform me of things like the fact that I surely must not have wiped your nose well enough because you have "More (signed) (s)not (spoken)." I've been telling you all along to slow down. "Lydia, stop rolling, you're two months old. Just stare at a toy." or "Lydia, stop crawling, you're four months old, BE STILL!" or "Lydia, for the love of the land, child, SIT DOWN. You're 7 months old." But about that time it hit me. You're not 7 months old inside. I just think you are because you happened to be born that many months ago. It's become pretty obvious that you've decided you are at least two, possibly three.
You never let me rest. You hardly ever sleep, and when you do it's not for long. When you are awake you never stop moving. You make the phrase "on the go" look like leisure. You are in to everything. You never leave any rock unturned. If there is something to sit on, you will stand on it. If there is something to stand on you will rock, run, or jump on/off of it. You won't make a peep when I'm trying to convince someone that you can talk, and you won't stop talking during Christmas Eve worship...or any other "quiet" time.
I've recently started trying to night wean you, and that (of course) hasn't been anything like I anticipated. Last night after I got you to sleep, I sat down at your Daddy's feet and bawled my eyes out. You see, I so lovingly chose a special lullaby for you when you were still in my belly. I've been singing it to you since before you could breathe. JJ Heller's "When I'm With You". Additionally, your Daddy bought you the sweetest, softest, cutest little snugly pink baby doll for your birthday. And try as I might, using that song and that baby doll didn't do any good at all to calm you to sleep instead of nursing. You know what worked? Can you imagine what in the world you wanted to snuggle? What musical rendition finally soothed your aching soul? You fell asleep to me singing "This Is Indiana" (a song about IU Basketball) whilst clutching a basketball. Lydia, "This Is Indiana" is NOT a lullaby. A basketball is NOT a lovie. You are a total nut.
You have taken every idea I ever had about what it might be like to be your Momma and turned it upside down. Sometimes it's incredibly hard to adjust my own expectations. Sometimes I'm insulted that you don't like the lullaby that is so special to me. Sometimes I just want one blessed thing to be easy with you. Sometimes I just want to sleep more than ten seconds at a time. Sometimes I want to just EAT the carrots instead of jousting with them first. HOW do you come up with this stuff? But, when it comes right down to it, I know God is using you to refine me, to change me, to challenge my delusion that I'm in charge of anything at all, ever. He's using you to show me that all of the silly things that I thought mattered actually don't matter at all. I had dreams of singing you that sweet lullaby, but if basketball is what soothes your soul, then loving you means singing basketball. I had dreams of cute hair bows and sweet outfits, and at this point if I manage to keep you clothed enough to avoid goosebumps, I call it a victory. I had dreams of holding on to your "little years" and lots of snuggles and baby moments, but you pretty much surpassed babyhood at about 7 months. What I know is that loving you doesn't look at all like I thought it would, and it is confusing, and crazy, and absolutely amazingly awesome. Although you make my head spin on a daily basis, I wouldn't change a single thing. I am just holding my breath in slightly terrified anticipation of what incredible feat you will pull off next.
I haven't written to you as often as I did your brother. I haven't written to you as often as I had planned, or as often as I would have liked to. I've been too busy trying to keep up with you. You're giving me a run for my money, keeping me on my toes, and changing my world every single day. I decided I'd rather focus on seeing your stunning smile, watching your diamond eyes dance, listening to your rolling laughter, and save you from falling off of whatever ridiculously high thing you've found to climb on instead of taking the time to write it all down. I hope you'll forgive me. I'd love to tell you that you can just ask me about it later, but if we're being honest, I have to tell you that extreme sleep deprivation results in blurry memories. So, I guess you'll just have to trust me when I tell you that you have been stunning from the start, and loving you has changed me in the best possible way I could never have imagined.
Love you, silly girl!
Momma
