For Maia on her birthday . . . from Mama

Dear Maia,

We looked at a clock today at 2:47 PM, which is the exact moment that you were born two years ago. It was coincidence--it's not as if we were sitting there with the cell phone on the table, waiting for that minute to arrive. We looked at the clock, and there it was, to the minute.

This moment at our mid-afternoon birthday lunch was an appropriate metaphor for how my life feels with you in it. You breathe more life, new life into every moment. Every minute of my life feels imbued with a sense of Maia-ness, because I know you are in the world with me, whether you are by my side or not. I travel the world differently because of you. I see it with new eyes. My own physical body is different and new because of you.

As you grow into a toddler, a child rather than a baby, I can feel you gaining your footing as an independent person. In your earlier months of life, I had a difficult time imagining the oneness an infant feels with her parents, but I don't struggle so much with seeing the world through your eyes these days. Every day is a see-saw between "us" and "me"--you fluctuate so rapidly (sometimes) between needing to be enveloped by a hug, and needing to run away.

I can't remember whether I heard it somewhere or read it, but there's a quote that I recall: "A baby's needs and wants are indistinguishable. What a baby wants is what a baby needs." Now, as you move into toddlerhood, I know that this statement is not always true anymore. But here is something else that I know: if you want a hug, I will be here, always. If you want a shoulder to cry on, or a kiss, or a calm voice, or a warm hand, I will give these things to you, whenever and wherever I can. You are growing up, to be sure, but you and I have a pull towards each other, almost like I can actually feel the gravity between us.

I am deeply proud of you in your moments of independence and distance. And I am also profoundly proud of you when you run back in my direction again, saying "Up, Mama!" and asking for a hug. As the years pass, I know I will experience more of the former, and less of the latter, and I know that I will miss the time that we have, right now. And so I'm back to the present moment, again, and the way in which your presence in my life demands mindfulness of how precious each moment is.

It's 9:01 PM now, on your birthday, and you are upstairs, sleeping on your belly in your dimly-lit room. I close my eyes and see you there, and I feel that gravitational pull again, as if the distance between us is just a bit too far.

I love you,
Mama