Dear Aubrey,
A few days ago, you turned 10 months old. Double digits, my friend, and ever so creeping on that one year mark. And once again, you are just the happiest of souls. You continue to amaze me as you go with the flow, take whatever is thrown at you and adjust on the fly to our hectic lives and busy schedules.
This month, I officially stopped nursing you. When you were very young, you did "take" a bottle, however I use that term loosely as you never took it very well and clearly did not like it. Because of how difficult it was to get you to drink from it, against all my better judgement and initial plans, I did not try often enough. Eventually, around three months old, you just flat our refused it and we stayed in that camp for the next 6 months. Although frustrating at times, I found comfort in the fact that it would not last forever and that when it came down to it, I didn't really have anywhere to go anyways. Well madam, about 6 weeks ago I simply got tired of that reality. I was ready to have some freedom and ready to rejoin the world of activities and events that start before 7pm or last longer than 4 hours. So, we started to wean. I followed the same type of pattern I did with your sister (as she too was a bottle refuser) and started slowly. To say the least, it was a struggle. You had no interest in drinking from a sippy cup and as a result basically starved yourself from liquids for about 2 weeks. But ever so slowly, ever so surely, you started to cave. Every day got a bit better and a bit easier. And suddenly, about 4 weeks in you just accepted your new reality and decided to start chugging. And chug you did (and continue to do). And just like that I was done nursing. FOREVER. There may be things about having a baby that I look back on and miss, but nursing will never be one of them. It's just not my thing. I was willing to do it, am grateful that I could, but ultimately will not ever miss it. Good riddance, nursing - catch ya never.
You still can't move. And for the first time this past month, it seemed to kind of get to you at times. You sit and you reach, and can even heave yourself onto your stomach but that is where it ends. What follows is a whole lot of leg kicking mixed in with general grunting and whining. Part of me hopes you can figure the whole thing out soon, as the whole show is getting a little tired, but the other part of me, the much more practical, logical side, will enjoy every moment of your immobility.
Every month as I sit down and write these letters to you I search deep inside for the right words to describe how much you matter, how much you mean to me, how much you have changed me, and how much you have added to my/our lives. And then, the other night I was reading the book "Carry on Warrior" by Glennon Doyle Melton and her words jumped off the page into my heart, my mind and my soul. I have never read anything that I resonated with more. And I could not have ever written something so perfectly that describes what welcoming you into our family did to me and to us.
Here it is...
"Then the third arrives. And as you hold her for the first time, you notice that your hands are steady and you're breathing easy. The all-consuming fire is gone. Love is just...love. Your don't feel threatened anymore by her or the world. Because all of a sudden you see in her teeny little face that she is the world. And you understand that you're not her protecter anyway; she has One of Those. You're just her teacher. You're just borrowing her for a little while. You decide not to spend so much of your precious time begging God to shield her from the world. Seems silly, all of a sudden. Because she, God, the world, are all mixed up together inside that new skin.
Then, as you count her tiny fingers with yours, you check your heart and find no guilt there. Because you understand that you are about to present your older children with the greatest gift of their lives. Who else but a sibling travels with you from the start of life's path to the bitter end? And you know now that if your first and second born spend the next few months relearning that They're Not the Centre of the Universe, well, good then. It's an important thing to know, and it's a lesson best learned early. So, there's another gift to them, courtesy of you, and this littlest one.
You understand that things will get tougher when she comes home. You will sweat and curse more at the grocery store. You will have less money to buy her the right things. You will look far less graceful at playdates. But you will care less. Because you have listened to and spoken to enough honest parents to understand that we're all in this together. And that there is no prize for most composed. So you've decided to stop making parenthood harder by pretending it's not hard.
You look down at her, your third, and you think, what's so different about you? But before you finish asking the question, you know the answer. And your heart says to her: Oh. You're not different from the other two. I am. I'm learning how to love without so much fear. How to relax a bit, in this brutiful world. How to let go and trust. You are helping me breathe easier, you three. One at a time, and together."
I cried as I read and re-read the words, over and over again. And at the end, like a tidal wave of love, the words that came to me, were thank you. Thank you, my sweet littlest one. For teaching me how to let go, how to care less, how to admit when things are hard, how to breathe easier. When your brother was born, I fought against it all. When your sister was born, I faked it. When you were born, I finally embraced it. And the joy and relief that came with it has allowed me to see the world clearer, steadier and calmer. It's a shit show sometimes (ok, a lot of the time), but it's our shit show. And we rock it. And at the end of the day, when I sing to you before bed, you always cuddle in to me, with your head placed firmly on my shoulder, and you sing right back almost as if you're saying "mama, we've got this". Love is just...love. And you, my very sweet child, are every definition of the word.
Here's to you at 10 months new.
Love,
Mama
xoxo
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