The Day Eden Found Her Voice

The drive home from work today was magical. Misty. Cool. Gray and blue and wintry feeling. The sun barely hid behind the clouds, tinging them pink.

I turned around to check on Eden in our baby mirror, and her sweet little face was turned up toward the sky, her translucent skin like porcelain in the soft afternoon light.

"Meh," she says softly, almost under her breath.

Then, "MRRRGH!!" and chomps down furiously on her little blue elephant's crinkly ear. Mmmm. Elephant ear.

Little Eden has found her voice.

It's been gradual, really. Every day a little less "accidental." But it seemed to me, as I changed her poopy diaper when we got home from the store, that every activity now has its own sound, and that she is consciously trying to make her vocal chords work at her command.

And, oh, how beautiful her little voice is.

What does this mean to me? It means we are standing on the threshold between infant and baby; between existence and learning. Between dependence and discovery.

It means my little girl is growing, as she should be, and that new things are on the horizon. Just as the sun was peeking through the clouds, so babyhood is beckoning. The tiny little infant I brought home from the hospital with me has been engulfed by this long, lean, beautiful baby who is full of smiles, and whose coos and wide blue eyes sparkle with the wonder of the world around her.

My Eden, my precious little baby girl. The most wonderful little girl in all the world.