This is Hard
It’s getting harder. The comparing thing. I mean, not doing it.
Grayson is doing well. He’s a hard worker, but he also likes to cuddle with his momma (well, really anyone who will let him rest his head on their shoulder). He’s making progress, but it’s slow. His rate of progress isn’t as fast as the other babies, and he was already so behind. The gap is getting wider.
We’ve gotten to the point where Grayson has friends who are months younger than him that are doing things he can’t do yet. His friends his age are racing around the house crawling, getting into everything (ok, so that part I’m not jealous of). They are waving goodbye, saying “MaMa”. They are on the cusp of walking. Will Grayson be walking even by his second birthday? We don’t know.
There are so many things that Grayson rocks at. Hugs, oh, those sweet hugs. Pick him up and he wraps his little arms tight around your neck and squeezes tight. And his kisses- so wet and drooly, but sincere. And he’s smart. Put his fish and his cup in front of him and ask him to choose one of them- he picks the right one every time.
But I’m sad for him. I’m sad that his 10 month body can’t do what his 10 month brain wants to do. He’s not on the move, exploring every nook and cranny of his world. I’m sad that he can’t splash in the bathtub and play with toys because he can’t sit up yet and is still stuck in the infant tub. I’m sad that when we go places, I’m not sure how much he can see- does he notice things that would fill other babies with wonder?
He’s smothered in love, though, and he’s happy. I know he is. His face lights up when he hears his name, his little body twitches with excitement when he hears his favorite songs, and he relaxes contentedly in my arms right before bedtime.
My counselor says part of my sadness is mourning the loss of the child I was expecting. That’s a tough pill to swallow since the baby that grew inside me all those months is here. But she’s right- Grayson’s life is not what I had imagined it would be, especially since I had a completely normal pregnancy and had no warning of this journey. I feel guilty morning this other, imaginary child when I have Grayson- who is the joy of my life and I love him, accept him, and adore everything about him- just the way he is. But I guess anytime life takes a turn you aren’t expecting, even if it’s a very good one, there is some sadness and letting go of a dream.
I re-read this post I wrote months ago and was reminded that life in Holland is different than that in Italy, but still amazing. And especially amazing because I’m in Holland with my G-Man (who, as my SIL pointed out, would look awesome in wooden shoes!).