All of the milestones we've celebrated these past 18 months added up. I used to find them terrifying because with each new skill we were pulled farther and farther from that tiny six pound baby in a blanket. Now, Adeline says "baby" herself & tucks in dolls and kisses them "ni-night" sweetly on their foreheads. Our baby is a toddler now. Sometimes I wonder if God is intentionally growing her sweet fuzz hair so slowly so that I can still see my tiny baby in her face. But even now those fuzzy little strands are peeking past her neck and I can see a tiny little fountain ponytail in our future.

I've been happier than I've ever been since she was born. I spent so much time in the first six months of her life desperately trying to get the hang of it all... breastfeeding, babywearing, doctor's appointments, the sleeping and waking and tummy time and swaddling. The next six months were all about gaining confidence--- saying things like "my daughter" without thinking twice and forming opinions on topics from baby led weaning to attachment parenting. Finding a tribe. Finding a circle. Finding a community of moms and trying to sort out a sense of belonging in my new world.

Those second six months, I was constantly trying to find the best way to parent. To be the parent that I wanted to be. What would that look like? I spent the second six months of her first year somewhere between laughing, crying and a panic attack. And then one afternoon in the middle of the bedroom, she was crawling. Climbing. Splashing in the bath. Quicker than anything, Adeline turned one.

We had a party with all of our friends. I remember hugging each person as they came into the yard. I'm not sure I could have made it that year without our friends. They called, visited, and then maybe the most important thing--- kept calling, kept checking in, kept making plans even as things like colds and exhaustion and busy schedules crept in and broke some of them.

I don't think I'll ever forget the day of her party. It was shady and warm in the yard. The blackberries looked the same way they did the night we left for the hospital to have her. Everyone who wanted to picked some. I remember looking over at Talmon as all three of us blew the candles out on her cake. It was so surreal. We had a beautiful little daughter, our own little home. We made it. We'd come out the other side of a year and we were ok.

The last six months have been all about thankfulness and discovery. While Adeline is discovering the world around her and becoming an active part of it, we are learning more and more about her. She's quick and chatty with a streak of spunk a mile wide. She's quiet and curious about new things. Sometimes, she's exhausting. Exhilarating. She's huge smiles and pink cheeks and one tiny blonde curl.

She opens me up to a way of being that I've never known before. We were driving home from the garden at dusk yesterday and something about the way she was wiggling in her carseat told me that her exploring wasn't done for the day. I was so tired from a night of waking and a busy day, but I turned the car towards Asilomar Beach anyways and we got out just after the sunset. Dark black clouds over Spanish Bay hung low and all the oranges and pinks whisked across the ocean.

We took off our shoes and walked along the path toward the water. Stuck sticks into a pile of sand. If you're quiet for a minute and be mindful, I swear toddlers will show you the meaning of life. It's about touching a shell and noticing it's smoothness, hearing the music of a violin from a bonfire across the way, stopping to watch something sing and swoop along the horizon.

She is so innocent,  I remember thinking. She is seeing these things I've seen all my life for the first time. I wondered all through the walk what she thought of this place. Suddenly, she pointed her index finger towards the sky and said "Mama? Mama? Bird!!!!!" "Yes, Adeline, that's a bird." I said, absentmindedly. She turned towards me and asked "Mama? Hug?" She reached her tiny arms around my shoulders and buried her face in my neck.

In eighteen months of motherhood, I think I've finally learned the most important thing. When your child hugs you, never be the first to let go.