I love when people ask me about Evelyn. I'm just a really proud mom. Even when she's hitting the not-so-pleasant milestones like saying 'no' to everything, or getting defiant about boundaries, or wanting to watch the same cartoon DVD 4 times in a row, I can feel confident that she's doing it on time. But mostly I just tell people, "She's so big!"
I think she's a big girl. She used to be tiny enough to sleep in my lap and curl around my belly. Now she sits in my lap and her head blocks my view.
People laugh at me a little. Some of them even look a little concerned about my delusions. "That's not big," they say sadly.
I've been telling her "You're so big and strong!" before I even knew if she was a boy or a girl. I knew any child of Cody's might be a bit too large for some people's approval, and I wanted 'it' to know I was going to celebrate being big and strong. I also knew any child of mine could be small, and endure all the 'lighthearted' teasing and dismissals that come with it. I knew I wanted that little fetus to be big and strong. I grew bigger every day and every day I'd tell my belly "Way to go! You're so big and strong!" Then she was born and she was a pretty regular size, but still very strong. We saw no need to stop telling her to be big and strong.
She lifts things. She wants to move furniture. She carries heavy books and toys that are supposed to stay on the floor. She climbs and runs and spins. You'd think the shine would wear off at some point, but I'm completely blown away at her amazing health and strong little body. It's so fantastic and strong and whole. I didn't know a small person could do so much. I didn't know a small person would want to try to literally climb walls or chase animals for long distances.
Someday, we might have to let Evelyn know that she's not really flying when we swing her through the air. Someday we may even have to break it to her that she probably can't be a superhero because we're not cut out to be the parents of a crime fighter.
I never want to stop telling her that she's big and strong. I pray (with a tone of defeat already in my voice) that she'll never ask me to stop saying that, or that she won't want to be 'big' because that's not what women want. I don't want her to ever feel like she should downplay her strength. I want her to love her body for being exactly what it is--a miraculous creation that grew and grew and changed and adapted and helped her do all the things she wanted to do. It's beautiful. She's beautiful. She's mighty.
She's big and strong.