Inside Out Day

Last Friday was your inside-out day, baby boy.

The day that marked the tipping point between time spent growing inside me and time spend growing outside me.

268 days inside me. 268 days outside me.

I didn't get to write your blog post on the actual day, but I looked up when your inside-out day was a few days before, and on Friday, I paused for a moment and smiled. I thought of all that time you were inside me, and all this time you've been outside. I paused and I smiled and I marked the day in my heart of hearts.

What on earth did I ever do before you were an outside baby, before you graced my days and hours and minutes with your sweet smile and your easy laugh and your twinkling eyes? You filled a part of my life that I never even knew was missing. The last 268 days really have been the happiest of my life. No matter how harried I get at work, no matter how tired I am from lack of sleep, there is a level of permanent contentment deep in my soul that no temporary feelings of stress can touch.

And you are such a big part of that contentment.

For the last 268 days, I've been able to kiss your elbow dimple and say "ma-ma-ma" against your cheek and feel your breath on my neck as you sit and quietly snuggle with me. I've heard you squeal with delight and heard your first words. I've seen you crawl and throw a ball and stand and walk along furniture. Inside babies are nice, but outside babies fill your heart and your arms and your eyes in the most delicious ways possible.

But the first 268 days were their own kind of special. You grew perfectly inside me. You and I were never apart. I was never alone. I could reach down at any point, in any mood, and feel a bulge that belonged to you, and love you and know that you were right there with me. But more than the constant companionship, I knew that for those 268 days, you were protected. I could keep you safe and healthy. No cold would touch you, no germs, no illnesses. You never cried. You never needed anything.

In a world where mothers want nothing more than to love and protect their children, those first 268 days were our honeymoon.

I guess growing up is a gradual movement from safety to vulnerability, but also from passivity to interactivity, to fun. That is to say, the older you get, the harder it is to take care of you but the more fun it is at the same time.

So happy inside-out day. You are now more a child of the world than of the womb. 268 days from now and you'll have likely had your first scrapes and bruises. You'll probably have gotten sick a few more times. You might even start to have tantrums, begun those battles with feelings of frustration and injustice. We'll probably have had to start some kind of limitations, some kind of discipline. But you'll also be walking (running!) and talking. You'll know how to play games. You'll be learning your letters and colors and shapes. And you and your sister will be able to play together for hours and hours and hours.

I wish I could protect you forever.

But always know that we mothers let go so that you can experience the thrill of flight for yourself.