You Belong Among the Wildflowers

I have a running document on my computer titled “Little Letters for Kate”. It’s essentially a journal specific to life with Kate where every so often I’ll write about something funny or scary or special that happened, or just reflect on how I’m feeling. Sometimes it’s just a line or two and sometimes it’s full paragraphs. I do it in fits and spurts, trying to hold on to these days and these feelings, knowing the memory of them will fade.

I was looking back on it the other day, realizing it had been awhile since I’d written. The following is an excerpt from 2 years ago (though how that is possible I cannot reconcile) when Kate was 6 months old.

You’re 6 months old today. I want you to be my baby forever but your babyhood is already halfway over. 

I want to be fully present for every moment. I know there are things I will not remember - that’s a fact of life. But I want to soak them in while they are here. And write them down when I feel so inspired. 

So today, on your 6 month birthday, these are some of the things I love about you.

I love your bathtime posture - slouched down in your bath chair, face barely above water but not seeming to care, half side lying with your little toes braced against the side of the tub, holding your bath toy and babbling away about whatever is on your mind. It’s a position you return to no matter how many times I prop you back up. I hope you love the water all your life.

I love the way your eyes follow me around a room.

I love the way you babble constantly - various pitches and keys, focused on me or your toys or your toes, drool spilling from your mouth. I want to hear all your stories. I hope you’ll still tell them to me as you get older.

I love your wide toothy smile.

I love the way you squeal and make your body board straight when you get excited.

I love your newfound independence in holding your bottle, spoons, cup - soon you’ll be refusing my help and it will be messy and frustrating but I’ll try to let you do it yourself. 

I love the way you giggle when we dance.

I love the way you “sing along” when daddy plays the guitar.

I love your sleepy smiles - you always wake up so happy and ready to go.

I love the way you thrive on our daily routine. 

I love that your pacifier elephant is so soothing for you when it’s time to sleep - you always hug it close.

I love how you calm whenever I sing our bedtime song “Wildflowers”, even if it’s not bedtime. 

I love the way you’re so entertained by Tim, even when he’s driving me crazy. 

I love being your person. I know I probably won’t always be your person, but right now it’s my favorite thing in all the world.

You’re so full of life and spunk. You’re the goofy little kid I always hoped you’d be. I promise to do my best to foster your wildness and not dim your light. You are full of light.

“You belong among the wildflowers. You belong in a boat out at sea. You belong with your love on your arm. You belong somewhere you feel free.”

- Tom Petty Wildflowers

I am repeatedly struck by the realization that children come to us as fully formed independent beings. Their personalities begin to shine through immediately as tiny babes, long before our influence has had time to impact them. As parents and caregivers, our role is not to treat them as a blank canvas on which to paint our own dreams and ideas, but rather to give them the room and fertile ground to grow ever more deeply and securely into who they are. Kate is now 2 and a half, and my favorite thing about this age is her absolute transparency of thoughts and feelings. Society eventually puts us into boxes of when and where and how to display our thoughts and emotions. But my deepest hope is that, at least here in our home, those boxes never arrive. I hope that she always feels the safety to be fully and authentically herself, even (and perhaps especially) when it is not what I imagined. I hope she feels herself a wildflower.