Dear Lyra,
Happy 5 month birthday!
I’m starting to notice a trend here. With each passing month I feel like you wake up to the world a little more. I see you notice things for the first time that were always there—little tags on beloved toys, clasps on my nursing bras, the cap on my water bottle. You study them so intensely, and I can only imagine what is going on inside your brain. I wonder how long this will continue. Through infancy? Through childhood? Your whole life? I think that’s probably it. I hope so.
You seem increasingly desperate to move. You practically demand to be carried around so that you can inspect things. You are no longer content to play alone with your toys but want to be involved in everything I’m doing. It means everything takes 10 times longer but it’s also 10 times more fun. Who knew putting away laundry could be so interesting? A few weeks ago you started rolling over and just today you may have realized that you can chain together rolls. Uh oh!
Earlier this month we visited England. We stayed at your Grandma and Grandpa’s house and you met your Great Aunt Elizabeth and Great Uncle Lewis. You also met a bunch of your dad’s friends at Andy and Jess’ wedding. It was a short trip (less than a week!) but it was really good to see everyone and I think it’s making us less afraid of traveling with you. Jet lag was still rough, but at least this time we were ready for it and we took lots of naps.
Soon I will be heading back to work. It will be so hard. I will miss you desperately. Never more in my life have I wished I could split myself in two — one of me would stay home with you and the other would go back to work. But in lieu of that we are searching for the perfect Mary Poppins nanny. We haven’t found her yet but I think we will soon.
I’m writing you this month’s letter while you scream. We are sleep training. I feel awful. Your dad feels awful. And you clearly feel awful. Your stoic dad checks in regularly to remind you that you are safe and you are not alone, but we have to let you do it yourself. We have to let you struggle because that’s when learning happens. It’s so hard. But every night there comes a point when you get suddenly quiet and I watch and I hold my breath and it’s like I am watching you racing toward the finish line. And I see you stop moving and I see your breathing slow…
You are finally asleep. You cross that finish line and I want to jump up and cheer! You are so tough and tenacious! I feel so proud of you. This is it. This is motherhood. It is a heart worn down with worry, bursting with joy. It’s the best damn ride I ever could have imagined. I love you so much.
Love,
Mama
