six.

dearest atlee nickole,

are you really six? i can still vividly picture that beautiful sunday morning that dr. mcalpine handed you to me. the room was dim, daylight was just beginning to break...you were covered in all that had encompassed you the past 37 weeks- and your eyes, they were so big and beautiful...i remember thinking that you looked a bit stunned those first few minutes- but then, it seemed to me, that you felt at home in my arms...you were the most precious thing i had ever held- and held you we did...if you weren't in my arms, you were usually in dads. your little room was directly three steps from ours (in our spacious 800 sf apartment), but that seemed like too far to me...most nights you slept snuggled between daddy and i or in your bouncy seat next to our bed. we never had a "game plan" so to speak...when other babies had consistent naps and bed times- yours changed with my mood- and your disposition. most of the time you were so content that daddy and i would keep you up until we went to bed. when i compare your babyhood to that of your brother and sister, yours had the least structure, the least predictability, the least order- now, how is it that you delight in routine, you thrill at having everything "in its place", and you have your own little patterns that you repeat with diligence?

you seem so big to me- you tower over beckett and avalon, you can read, you can write, you dress yourself, you embroider and you can chop cherry tomatoes for bruschetta and make guacamole, and the most daunting of all is the way i can no longer carry you in my arms with ease (which says as much of your stature as it does of my lack of muscle!) however, each time i pick you up at school i marvel at how tiny you still are...in the sea of upper elementary, middle school and high school kids you still look small- and i really like that.

a few nights ago, i laid with you in bed, i was feeling especially sensitive to all of the pressure you must feel at the oldest child- all the conscious and unconscious expectations i have of you. as we laid there i told you how proud i am of you and how much you have changed in six years...you quietly took my words in and then beamed beautifully when i said "atlee, you are getting big, but you are so little- and you will always be my baby no matter how big you get- always"
"even when i grow up?"
"even then, especially then".
love,
mom