Jude Benjamin // Seventeen Months

Dear Jude,
On the eve of you turning seventeen months, we found ourselves back in the very same place where I gave birth to you, at almost exactly the same time of day. You were born at 1.44am on the 1st May 2016, and on the 1st October 2017, we found ourselves back at Cossham Birth Centre with croup. I looked at the clock as we arrived and couldn't help but chuckle that the time was 12.44am. When I shared this small detail with Daddy in the morning, he said, 'seventeen months isn't really a special milestone, is it?!' He's right in many ways, but to my Mama heart, this detail mattered. the date and time of your birth will always be etched on my brain, and for now, I think of your birth each time a new month rolls around. But more than that, as a Mother, the experience of growing a baby for nine months, then actually delivering this precious life from my body is one that I replayed over and over, not wanting to forget any of it, because every birth only happens once. Even when births are more traumatic than yours was, the story of birth is something so significant to Mothers that we keep counting the months since your birth well past your first birthday. Whenever strangers ask me how old you are, I tell them how many months you are. Ruby reprimands me and corrects me every time, saying, 'he's one, Mummy'.

This month, your communication has changed in small, fun ways. You make it very clear when you don't want something, with a little shake of your head and an 'uh-uh'. Planes and helicopters fascinate you - everytime you hear one overhead, you stop what you are doing, point skywards, gasp and look at me. We have a book called 'Things that fly' which you love. Your vocabulary has expanded to include the words:
Jude: 'Dooooooooo-a'
Ruby: 'oooooooooooh-sh'
More: 'moooooore'
oh no
oh wow
ball (used to be 'lllllllllllll' then 'blllll')
choc (often said while wielding a bar of chocolate that you have found in my baking cupboard)

At the same time as your speech is emerging, so is your frustration with communicating and being understood. You will frequently point and say 'daaaah' and the longer it takes me to figure out what it is you'd like, the more frustrated you get. This often results in you lying on the floor, crying for a little while. I'm doing my best to understand you, little one. We'll get there. One lovely moment this last week, you had been been playing in the garden by yourself. You came inside, took my hand and insisted I come outside with you, pointing wildly and chatting about something only you could understand. You took me to our apple tree and pointed up, making it very clear that you would like an apple. We picked it and you ate it. Such a simple moment, but I loved it for so many reasons. I love that you know we have an apple tree that you can eat from. Our last house didn't have any trees at all, and this simple addition to our garden brings me a lot of joy.

At mealtimes, we give you a shot glass of water. You take a sip then pour the rest onto your plate before saying, 'mooooooore!' When we fill up your glass for a second time, you saturate your food once again. You like to spoon frothy milk into your mouth and eat your grape halves with a fork. You take great care to turn each half over so that the flat side is face down, making it easier to spear.

When you wave goodnight to Daddy and Ruby, you cock your head to the side, scrunch up your nose, fill your face with a smile and wave your characteristic wave, which I adore.

You are still so confident to approach a group of strangers when something about them sparks your curiosity. You stand and watch, not seemingly concerned if they don't take an interest in you, but delighted when they do. Especially when they happen to have a ball that they are willing to share with you.

It is no secret that I found the first year of getting you to sleep extremely challenging, and I have to say that the novelty of you embracing sleep has still not worn off. When you're tired, I ask if you'd like to go to bed and have some milk. You giggle then gallop towards the stairs, climbing onto your bed as soon as you can. Speaking of climbing, in the last month you have started to climb onto the table on a regular basis. We removed the front of your high chair as it was a source of constant frustration to you, and this has aided your ventures onto the top of the table. I have lost count of the number of times I have turned around to finding you standing there in the middle of the dining table, and the moment our eyes meet, you grin then run on the spot until I lift you down.

You are a treasure and we love you.
All my love,
Mama