Letter to my 14-month-old daughter

Happy 14 months baby doll,

At 14 months, am I still justified in calling you baby? I'd like to think that I am, considering that I still change your poopy diapers a few times a day. Besides, it wasn't too long ago that you needed me to carry you everywhere. Now you resemble a human pinball, running and bouncing off of things, making them ding and click and sing. Yesterday I caught you trying on my shoes. My expensive shoes...this could be a problem.

I was told the time flies by with an infant, and I will not argue this. Can I say that I have loved every moment of it? No way. There were days that you had me crying before noon. It is not that you are a bad baby, it is just that you are a baby, and I am so new at this. I am worried that something that I will do will send you to the shrink's couch before you are twelve. You have done a great job of teaching me to calm down...with that smile that lights up your face and your amazing adaptability. After twelve will be a whole new ball of wax. I am sure we will both be on some couch by then. That will be a whole new letter.

No, you are a fantastic baby. I have spent the last 14 months in Awe. I have watched you become. When I was pregnant, it was hard to imagine that I wouldn't just give birth to a smaller me. I am delighted to see this is not the case. I have never met anyone like you.
Everything makes you happy in some way. Your presence in the moment is unmistakable. You turn heads where ever you go, which started the day you were born. I was told by the nursery staff and your pediatrician that it was impossible to be a newborn and be that beautiful. To this day, I have people chasing me down in stores to tell me that you are the most beautiful thing they have seen. If this blinding beauty continues, it could also be a problem. We will save that talk for later.

I love your over-adoration for books. I hope it continues and that you will love to learn, but there is such a thing as over-read and over-educated. Let's stick to board books for now. There is a lot to learn, but by the time you become my age you will realize that there is a lot to unlearn also. You see, the presence that you exhibit now will dissolve into what we call the rat-race. Our greatest danger is to let the days slip away, unnoticed. You will feel the need to become more, to do everything and to be it all at once. I hope you are one of the lucky ones who can see through this illusion early. I hope that you will find the importance of presence again. Of simple being. This is the holy grail, baby girl. This is all we have, this moment. You have helped me learn this all over again.

Your father and I have one dream and hope for you. That you find the happiness that can only be found by being you.

This is all a bit too much to say to a 14-month-old. For now, I will stick to staring at you endlessly, watching you bounce and giggle and scream.
Thank you for being my most skilled teacher.

My whole heart,
Mom