Sweet Baby – 6 Month Recap

Sweet Trombone,

Today you turned 6 months old.

(Ack! 6 months till your birthday! 6 months till I go back to work! 6 months left to kiss your face all day every day! I AM CALM!)

You are sitting up unassisted now, reaching for toys, all the toys, all the time. Your balance is excellent. In the past couple of weeks you’ve really honed the art of sitting. You come by this honestly; your father and I are also excellent sitters.

Here are the foods you have tried in the past few weeks: formula, banana, sweet potato, turkey bone (cooked – the raw ones are just for your dad) avocado, watermelon, celery (just for gnawing) and rice cereal. You like all these foods. You especially like grabbing the spoon with food on it and shoving it in your own mouth. Tonight we mixed watermelon with your rice cereal and you didn’t bat an eyelash. Because how would you know that it’s disgusting? Exactly! Oh the fun we will have, oh the fun. Next step, some kind of apparatus for you to sit in while you eat. I hear they make something called a “high chair” for babies. Might have to look into it.

Your incessant babbling of a few weeks ago has stopped, replaced by high-pitched shrieks and low grunts again. The most adorable noise comes out of your mouth when you’re enjoying something. It’s a very soft, “heh heh heh heh heh.” You sound like Grandmaster Flash. On Christmas morning I put you in front of the tree at your grandparents’ place and we handed you a present. You tore a few strips of paper from the box and then stuffed them in your mouth, all the while, “heh heh heh heh heh.”

You have not figured out how to roll onto your back. Back to front is no problem but front to back hasn’t yet occurred to you.

Still, you have no teeth. However, you have developed the manual dexterity to put things, teether-type things, things that are not my flesh and bone, in your mouth and chew on them. For this, I am very grateful.

this hat made by someone else’s grandma entirely!

In the bath, you spend all your time sucking on a washcloth. And saying “heh heh heh heh heh.” Sometimes you will splash yourself and it surprises and pleases you. But mostly, you’re in it for the yummy warm bath water.

I was thinking about the day you were born. How whirlwind it was, how fast and then slow. In the hour or so before you entered the world, a peace came over us in the hospital room. The lights were low and I was feeling no pain, my midwife, doula, your dad, the nurses, we all just were chatting and waiting a bit to see if my contractions would pick up again so that you could be born. When I pushed, there was no frenzy and no shouting, just encouraging words and a very low-key but powerful energy. You slid out, were caught and placed on my chest in one fluid movement and just like that: you were my son and I became your mom. Just like that.

Everything since then has been both foreign and familiar. I guess that’s where instinct meets the Internet. Everything has had two sides, like a giant coin. Even as I stroke your hair, which is growing in nicely, wishing idly for you to never be bigger than my lap, I am excited to find out what your favourite colour will be at 3, at 6, at 13. Even as I fight to control my frustration with your long, drawn-out bedtimes I am sharply aware that this time will too soon be gone and I will miss you.

Two sides to every moment, two sides to all the tears; it’s a balanced gig, this parenthood. Nothing is simple or easy or clear. But your smile and your open-mouthed drooly kisses and your voice saying, “heh heh heh heh” and your hand reaching for my mouth so I can kiss each of your fingers in turn; each of those things is love and this love, at least, is as simple and easy and clear as can be.

Happy, happy sixmonurthday, my boy.