I went with my sister to pick up the Mac attack today at school (ie- day care). When she saw us, she lifted her arms up, smiled widely, clapped her hands together several times, and then brought her arms up again choking out a high-pitch scream of delight. I've never gone to day care to find her sad, crying or anything but content or happy, but her level of joy shoots to the moon when she sees the family she knows.
She's at a point where I finally get to "rough house" with her a little - which I wouldn't do at all if she didn't giggle so much in response. It. Is. Awesome.
When i get to spend time with this kid, my heart gets so light. It is hard to imagine that I might feel more in love with or connected to any other child. And yet I know [all the know-it-alls have told me] that nothing compares to how much you love your own child(ren). Tomorrow we are 16 weeks pregnant, which i guess is 4 months... that seems like a safe time for it to start to feel real. And it is starting to feel real. Every morning this week, I've woken up, emptied my bladder, coughed the junky mucus from my lungs, blown the banana-baby-food-consistency snot from my nose, and returned to the bed to wrap myself around my woman. To breathe in her smell and rejoice in the glow of morning and our growing family.
Tonight, at my sister's house, Mac came at me - on two feet - for the first time (from across the room.) She steadied her hands on the floor, balanced herself on her feet, and walked 2 or 3 steps before falling. Then she repeated the process at least 5 more times. I expected her to give up and crawl, or cry, but there she was just trying over and over again... just walking. Excited and stunned into silence, I didn't make any announcement, but my sister exclaimed, "She's never done that before." Oops. She hasn't?!? I assumed she had.
Videos were taken, clapping and high-fiving commenced; and eventually Mackie grew frustrated and erupted into easily consoled tears...
When my first car turned over 100,000 miles I had waited and waited to see the 99999 become 100000. The most memorable part of that day was the realization that seeing the number 100001 was much more aesthetically pleasing to me. It was an unexpected nugget of satisfaction. All week I had been focusing on this random milestone, thinking to myself, "Don't miss it." Then the nines became zeros and I was fairly unimpressed. But the reflexive and symmetrical quality of the next moment - that I hadn't ever considered - sort of blew me away. I remember thinking, "Hmm. It just keeps getting better."
I experienced a similar jolt in perception tonight regarding a baby's first steps... Here's the unanticipated wonder: Mac will walk hundreds of times again. Each incident will produce a more steady gait. But the first few times - these next few weeks - are the only time to witness this innocent display of perseverance. The process of slowing yourself down and risking pain in order to advance, not out of logical reasoning, but out of instinct is barely graspable. What makes a child decide to walk and fall and get up and try again, instead of going back to the safety of crawling? Why is the challenge of balance suddenly something to explore and conquer? I thought the milestone to cherish was getting to see her walk, but it really is more- getting to see her grow, struggle, try, and learn.
It's the journey, right? Not the destination...
It's so obvious that we almost miss it every time.
1 comment:
This is as awesomely well-written as it is insightful, T. Beautiful. :)
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