For deep breaths
For 9%
For brooms
For breaks
For bedtimes
01 March 2012
22 February 2012
21 February 2012
For such a short time
To the one whose heart I never heard,
For such a short time we shared flesh and cells. For such a short time you were hope and new and ours. I never got to hear your heartbeat, never got to love you like I wanted. It was such a short time.
I don't think about you as often as I thought I might. But every once in a while your memory surprises me. Sometimes I think about you while sitting on a plastic train seat with the river rushing by, the anonymity of a Grand Central sea brings me closer to you somehow. Sometimes your memory surprises me while I lay in a dim room trying to heal a body that I at once loathe and love - both because they knew you, carried you. For such a short time.
Sometimes I think about how big you would be now. How many of your heartbeats would have already echoed in my body. Instead, silence takes up residence. But for a short time you were there. And you were loved. And you are missed.
Forgive me if I think of you too often or too little. It's hard to know how to remember you, and I'm doing it the only way I can imagine. So I share you here, in a space that I have tried to fill with honesty and love and growth. All things we too shared. For such a short time.
Love,
Mom
For such a short time we shared flesh and cells. For such a short time you were hope and new and ours. I never got to hear your heartbeat, never got to love you like I wanted. It was such a short time.
I don't think about you as often as I thought I might. But every once in a while your memory surprises me. Sometimes I think about you while sitting on a plastic train seat with the river rushing by, the anonymity of a Grand Central sea brings me closer to you somehow. Sometimes your memory surprises me while I lay in a dim room trying to heal a body that I at once loathe and love - both because they knew you, carried you. For such a short time.
Sometimes I think about how big you would be now. How many of your heartbeats would have already echoed in my body. Instead, silence takes up residence. But for a short time you were there. And you were loved. And you are missed.
Forgive me if I think of you too often or too little. It's hard to know how to remember you, and I'm doing it the only way I can imagine. So I share you here, in a space that I have tried to fill with honesty and love and growth. All things we too shared. For such a short time.
Love,
Mom
16 February 2012
04 February 2012
16 Months & Things
1. I thought last month was a vocab explosion! Holy heck, at this point you will repeat (or attempt to repeat) most of what we ask you to say (that is, of course, if you are feeling like doing it).
2. New words said/attempted: little, dump truck, helicopter, thank you, please, cooking, mac and cheese, meatball, bye-bye, uh-oh, love you, bubbles, book, boy, girl
3. Sometimes, you find some little seed of energy way down deep in that little toe of yours and proceed to use it up by running back and forth in our living room while simultaneously yelling. (Most times) I find it obscenely cute. (I've also been known to join you from time to time.)
4. You will sign and speak "please" now. Again, I find this obscenely cute and have, up to this point, always given you what you asked for. This smells like trouble from miles away.
5. At the doctor's visit a few weeks ago you were officially 26lbs 11oz and 33" tall. Most people think you are like 2. It's bringing me back to my whole childhood ("oh wow, you look so much older than _ years").
6. You give Dada and I (and sometimes Molly) kisses. (see above re: obscene cuteness)
7. Making this list reminds me of all the awesome things about getting to be your mom, which is helpful when you decide to deprive me of sleep and I'm struggling to remember that this is all worth it.
8. You can do puzzles now!
9. You took your first sled ride this month after winter finally arrived. You seemed to enjoy it, although I'm not sure if it was the sled or the fact that I looked like a huffing and puffing lunatic as I dragged the sled up the hill.
10. You were not, however, too keen on tasting snow. In the long run this avoidance will likely do you more good than harm.
11. Animal sounds you have mastered: chicken, dog, cat, cow.
12. Most of the time you attempt to get food to your mouth with a fork you succeed. That is, unless you are trying to eat Cheerios with said fork. In that case the probability of food in mouth is approximately 0.3%.
13. Your hugs make everyday better.
14. One of your bath toys is a xylophone. When I told you this the other day, you promptly picked it up and held it to your ear like a phone.
15.You can point to your hair/head, ear, nose, chin, belly, toes, and knees (as well as other people's). When I ask you where your eyes are, you simply roll them at me.
16. You share this day with your Grandma Jan - Happy birthday Grandma Jan!
03 February 2012
Overheard
Me: Teddy, please keep your broom on the floor. We don't sweep the walls.
Teddy: ::blank stare::
Teddy: ::blank stare::
02 February 2012
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