Walk On  

It's official. My baby girl is walking.

Actually, I've been thinking about exactly how I'd write this post for weeks, because G has been practicing her new talent for about that long.

It started right after DH's parents visited from out of town. Literaly the night after they left, DH & I were sitting about three feet away from each other on the carpeted living room floor. He was holding G between his legs, and when he let go to allow her to stand on her own, she shocked us all by toddling, tripping, walking over to me. We looked at each other in disbelief. At this point, she was barely 10 months old, far too early for someone who had just perfected crawling a few weeks earlier. So we passed it off as a fluke.

But G has continued to practice, and as we all know, practice makes perfect. OK, she hasn't perfected this skill just yet, but she is getting there. This week, she finally seemed to get it down. She walked from DH to myself without any prompting, without any help, without falling into her destination (a hallmark of her early days on two feet). We even managed to capture her on camera.

It's a funny thing about watching your child reach a new milestone. I think this is something all mothers would agree with. On one hand, you are beyond proud. Watching your baby roll over, crawl, cruise, or walk for the first time is just as jaw-dropping, as awe-inspiring as watching Michael Phelps break another world record. But at the same time, it's bittersweet. It means your child-- the one you rocked to bed each night for so long, just to see that sweet smile pass over her face as she finally drifted off to dreamland-- is getting closer and closer (gulp) to walking away from you. So while you beam at the newfound mobility, you're also terrified by the increasing level of independence.

I'm trying hard to embrace the joy of G's early steps, rather than be petrified-- paralyzed-- by them. So right now, all I have to say is walk on G, walk on.