Dear Jack: One Year, Four Months

Dear Jack,

You are a year and four months old! It's hard to measure the changes, but when I look back at photos of your first birthday, these four months have made such a difference.

You want to do everything big lately. You wrestle hard. You climb over baby gates. You steal people's silverware. You REFUSE to eat in your high chair--no, you must sit with Eliot at his table. You brush your hair, wipe your face, get your own shoes, and so much more. You have always been so independent.

I started looking out for the terrible twos when you were a year old. I braced myself, but they didn't seem to come. Then, one day when you were rolling on the floor screaming that I wouldn't let you spray yourself with the water bottle anymore, I thought to myself, "Oh. This is a tantrum. Oh yeah. I guess he has been in the 'terrible twos' already." It's just that I got so used to it all with Eliot that I barely even recognized it. Ha. Fortunately for you, whenever you throw a fit, I don't feel all of those judging eyes watching me in Target when you arch your back and cry to get a soda by the check-out line. I merely shrug. Did they expect something else? But, truly, your fits are not too bad or frequent. I remember dragging Eliot out of a Barnes and Noble when he was two and him screaming the whole way across the mall and to the car. Yeah, you're not there yet. And maybe you won't get there. (Promise me you won't?)

Your vocabulary is growing slowly but surely. You say ball (for both a ball and a dog), cat, duck, quack, moo for cow, and shoes. I'm probably missing more. If you want something, you make a sound like a siren. You pretend to talk on phones and are always trying to steal them from everyone.

Physically, you're doing great. You love to explore in the woods and can walk about a quarter of a mile before wanting to be carried. You kick the soccer ball and throw tennis balls for Abed-nego. You clap when you are happy, and make clicking sounds to call the pets and also when listening to music with a clear drum beat. You also love to dance by throwing your hands up in the air.

Last month was your second Halloween. Your were Godzooky (baby Godzilla) while Eliot was Godzilla. You didn't really understand why we were going door to door for candy, but you loved it and held your little bucket out. You two were so cute, even if some people did call you Barney.

Your temperament is so sweet and happy. You are always laughing and trying to play peek-a-boo. You think I'm hilarious. You think everyone is hilarious. You love dogs and cats, but seem to prefer dogs. You want to be involved in everything, but aren't afraid to go out on your own. Your favorite toys are dinosaurs and cars. You get whiny when you are tired or hungry, but go down for one nap at 10:00 am every day and go to bed at 6:30 pm. Then you wake up at 6:30 am ready for some strawberry milk and to tackle the day (and your brother).

You are about the age Eliot was when I got pregnant with our second baby--the one we lost; the one before you. I can't imagine trying for another baby at this point, so this age doesn't make me think about that. Instead, I think about how heartbroken I was back then to discover that I wouldn't be having that second baby after all. For months, I cried and dreamed of you. And then you were there growing inside of me. I was so thankful and so terrified. We kept you a secret--our secret--for a while. Every single day, I thank God for you. You are a miracle, Jack, and so very special. Sometimes when I put you to bed at night, I rock you longer than necessary. I hold you in my arms and think to myself, "Don't forget this. Don't forget this." I feel your little (but growing so fast) body against my own and your fuzzy, soft hair at my cheek. You brought me hope and healed my heart when all I could see was darkness.