Dear Violet
{Months Three and Four}

Sunday, January 20, 2013


Dear Violet,

Let me tell you a little about the third and fourth months of your life, baby girl...
 
When you were eight weeks old, I had to go back to work. And, like many a new mama, my heart was heavy at the thought of being without you. I had only known you fifty six days, but you had become an intrinsic part of me. Your sweet round cheeks and your soft baby breath. Your bright blue eyes and your little hands grasping at my fingers. Where I went, you went. My plus one, always. And although your Aunt Monica had made me tour day cares and had helped me find a place that was as close to perfect as I could probably ever find with women who would cherish you while I was away, I wasn't ready. So, I took you with me. I packed up the diaper bag and the bouncy ball and the baby bjorn and I took you with me. I won't pretend it was easy because it wasn't. But it was worth it. To have you with me was worth everything. And looking back, the time you spent at work around so many smiling people who loved you before you were even born gave you just the opportunity to become the happy, social, always smiling baby that you are.
 
I hope you grow up knowing that your mother loves you more than anything else in the world, but I also truly love my job. I love helping children that didn't have the attention and care and love that you have. I hope that someday you are as proud of what I do as I was as a little girl of my own mother. She helped children, too. Who knows, maybe someday you'll find that your passion is helping children. Whatever your passion is, Violet, I will always be your biggest supporter.
 
When you turned three months old, you started day care and your mama got a bit of a promotion at work. In other words, things got really, really, really busy really, really, really fast. But my favorite part of every day was when I swaddled you at night and cradled you in my arms and rocked you to sleep. Sometimes, on my very favorite nights, just before you fell asleep, you would look at me and start to coo. And we would coo back and forth and beam at one another. And my heart would melt into a puddle of mama love.
 
In this letter, I could tell you how you started laughing and how it was, by far, the most beautiful noise I had ever heard. I could tell you how you started rolling and how the ladies at day care said you rolled like a six month old and your doctor said you rolled like a seven month old when you were only three months old. I could tell you how you've never liked your swing and how you only wanted to be in my arms or on the ground moving around. I could tell you how you started eating rice cereal at four months and thought it was the most delicious, fun, messy way to spend half an hour. I could tell you how your dad quickly became the funniest person in the whole wide world to you. I could tell you how you surprised me by becoming even more beautiful than you were in the previous months.

Instead, I will tell you in this letter what I tell you everyday. I love you and I'm so proud of you, sweet Violet. You make me so happy every single day.

Love, Mama

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