The Drama in Rolling Over

Dear Gianna,

You rolled over for the first time the other day, and I swear tears stung my eyes. Delight won over so I clapped my hands instead of crying.
Such a simple thing, this act of you turning over on your belly, but to me, it represents more than a physical milestone.
It’s you discovering your strength.
You figuring out the right amount of force to accomplish a task.
You were surprised, too. After days of kicking and turning, you finally got it! I saw the split-second of amazement in your eyes before you broke into a smile, mirroring my own.
It’s been eighteen weeks with you, my love. Merely a fraction in the span of time, but it’s already teeming with memories.
You’ve transitioned from gas smiles to giggles.
You’ve endured weeks of aircon-less nights in our sauna-like bedroom. You’ve gotten through fevers, colds, rashes, and IV insertions. You’ve gone to so many places newborns dare not go.
Wasn’t it just yesterday when we brought you home, uncertain and slow with the diaper change, and extra careful with handling, swaddling, watching, and everything else?
It wasn’t too long ago when you had to be fed every two hours then be rocked to slumber. I didn’t realize how difficult that was until now that you sleep for four, sometimes six-hour-stretches at night and I no longer have to get up because you can put yourself back to sleep.
Now you’re discovering what you can do on your own, and it’s both amazing and bittersweet.
I’m tempted to say slow down, but I also can’t wait to see more of the person you will be. So like what I’ve always said to you even while you were in my womb:
Grow strong, my love.
Meanwhile, I will watch in awe as you hit your milestones, and pray to dear God that I don’t miss any of them.






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