speech

Leila, you are on the cusp of speaking to me in full sentences. You reach for words and try to string them together and every day you learn how to say something new. It is shocking and amazing to now be able to ask you to do something and have you do it. "Leila close the door." "Leila give mommy a kiss?"

You can ask for "more" and say "no" (which you do, all the time). You can say the names of people you love. You can name almost all the animals and make their sounds. You're a sensitive soul Leila, you feel things deeply, and I know that the transitions between your dad's house and mine are incredibly difficult for you. I wish I knew how to make it easier for you. I wish I could explain it to you better, but you're still so little. The days your dad will pick you up from daycare I tell you that "daddy is coming to get you today," and you say, "daddeee" and smile. What you will remember from these days, these hectic early morning days of learning to talk and learning to love I am not sure. Perhaps all we really remember are the feelings behind events. The songs I sing you and the love I give to you. I hope that sticks. I hope you know I've got your back. You are never more than a whisper away from my thoughts; you are a part of me. The best part. You are my strength. My will, my drive. My ability to get up in the morning. You are what keeps me going when everything seems impossible.

Last week I was holding you, wrapped in a towel after you bath and I said, "I love you." And you said, "I ya you," and rested your head on my chest. Something inside me burst open. I don't know if you know what you were saying. How does a one year old grasp ephemeral concepts like love? It doesn't really matter, you said the words, and then you held me.