You have your own wisdom.

Originally written on December 14, 2020, when I was 7 months pregnant with my first son, Dean. Yesterday he turned 3.5 years old. Looking back at these words, I can see they are for all of us.

I want to teach you that you have your own wisdom. To trust your body. To listen to your heart. To cherish your gut. 

I want to tell you the world will tell you to stiffen your upper lip, to set your jaw. The world made its own cage out of its own rules, little one. Some are there to keep us safe and some are there to keep us in. Spend your life debating the difference. Keep the ones that help you thrive, like stopping at red lights or crossing at crosswalks. Those are the helpful kind.

I want to weave joy into each day so that it passes from my cells to yours. So that you are born crying but smiling with eyes wide open. We will rediscover the wonder we’d put down through your tiny hands. 

There is so much to take in: the cotton candy of sunrise, your face reflected in a puddle, the way lizards will scurry past your tiny sneakers. You will point at each one and look back at us, showing us your finds. You will waddle around to find more. 

There will always be more. Keep looking.