Dear Linde,

You’re almost 8 months old. I’ve neglected writing your letters. We’ve been busy with work, vacation, and the holidays, and it always seems much harder to write these than it actually is. The last couple of month have been exciting. You’ve grown immensely.

You took your first airplane ride. We went to California in November for our first family vacation. You did great on the airplane, sleeping almost the whole ride. This got my wheels turning about future trips. You also saw and touched the ocean for the first time. This was a big milestone for me. I’ve always found magic in the ocean. I see it at least once a year, and each time feels like a milestone. I know we’ll live by the ocean at some point in our lives.

First steps in the ocean

Cozy in your stroller as we saunter through the Venice Canals

Basking in Big Sur

First trip to wine country. You’ll enjoy it more when you’re older, but you sure did charm all the tipsy wine tasters.

You learned to sit on your own in these months. You are so content to just chill and play with your toys. These feels like a big change. Babies lay on their backs, kids sit up and play. You’ve pretty much outgrown your play gym. Sometimes you sit in it, but you don’t play with the toys, you grab onto the bar and try to pull yourself to standing.

Standing is another big development. You always want to be standing! Just like when you were little, and you never wanted to be laying down, you always wanted to be sitting. You have a walker, and that is where you are most happy. Trucking around the house at your leisure, you relish the independence.

Happiest in your walker

You are such an amazing baby. I know I’m biased, but I really do think you are exceptional. Today we went to the doctor for some shots. I dread it. I laid you on the bench, and the nurse jabbed two shots into your leg. You cried that sad cry that only happens when something actually hurts. But, this time it lasted about 10 seconds. Seriously. Then you were smiling at this nurse like nothing ever happened. You are resilient.

This last week you celebrated your first Christmas. I’m not sure you actually noticed. That’s OK, your Dad and I are still trying to work out how we will explain Christmas to you. We’re not Christians, so why do we celebrate Christmas? It’s a tough question that will require telling you the truth, but it will be a difficult truth. One that I don’t understand myself yet. It’s a good thing you won’t ask for a few years.

Santa brought you many things that you are actually supposed to put in your mouth

This leads me to a point. Your Dad and I believe in things, and we don’t believe in others. They are not always the same things. My beliefs have changed from those I was raised with. I want you to know that you can believe in any things you want. You can believe in anything you want, as long as those beliefs don’t marginalize others. We are all equal, and none of us has any right to judge another. I hope that I can teach you this, but if I fail, at least it is written here.

I love you more than I can put into words.

Mom

Jellyfish at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Many years ago, on a trip to the Zoo, I imagined myself showing my little girl the fishes in the aquarium. The thought made me so happy. That was when I knew I wanted children.