A milestone happened in our house on Tuesday night. M rolled over for the first time!
All babies eventually turn over, and milestones are meaningful for every single one of them. I get that. This moment holds something more to me, though.
O has had gross and fine motor delays for much of his life, starting from when he was very young. PT and OT have been a part of his journey (and mine — there have been many, many, many appointments). On paper, he’s still quite a bit “behind” for his age based on what other kids of a similar age can “typically” do. In time, he’ll get there.
I have long felt mom guilt over his delays, however. Many a time I have wondered if my well intentioned parenting choices caused them. We didn’t really do tummy time as I didn’t believe in pushing him to be in positions he couldn’t get into himself. I let him be the lead, and I continue to do so to this day. Eventually, we found out he had low muscle tone, and that it was likely the culprit.
But, despite knowing that, my anxiety doesn’t let me hear it.
I don’t want that same journey for M. I don’t want those same struggles. So, I keep doing with her all that I hardly did with O… as if in some kind of hail mary attempt to avoid it. But, as hard as I try (and try do I ever), her tolerance for it is achingly minimal. Many a day she makes it happily on her tummy for less minutes that I can count on one hand.
This, of course, has lead my worries to be convinced we are again on the same trajectory.
And then on Tuesday she just rolled over out of the blue, as if it was the world telling me to calm the hell down.
I hear you, world. I hear you.
She’s got this.
Happy five months, sweet girl. 💚
She’s got this.
