Dear Noah,

In just the last week you turned six months old. Half a year. These past six months with you have been a learning experience. With William, I was completely clueless and flying by the seat of my pants at every turn. With you, I had the background of already raising a baby for a year so I had something to compare each scenario to. Perhaps the most interesting part of these six months has been how drastically different my experience with you has been. It’s hard to not compare. I apologize for that. I’m sure I will forever compare your milestones or experiences to those of William because he is 16 months ahead of you – experiencing each milestone first. Part of that comparison is how I find comfort in where you are and part of it is my fear that I’m not doing something right with you, not teaching you enough, not exposing you to the right things, not reading enough or singing enough or even talking enough to you. But truly what I am finding out is that you will come to each milestone in your own time.

Noah, you are such a joy to me. You are the happiest, most easy-going baby I could imagine. Your eyes light up when you see me and it fills my heart so deeply that I can’t imagine what life was like before you were a part of our family. You smile widely and coo and are content to cuddle with me, wrap my hair around your fingers and twirl it, or rest your head on my chest and take a long nap. To see you searching the room for me is at the core of how motherhood has given me new life and purpose.

My greatest hope for you is that your disposition is something you are able to hold on to as you grow older. You are adaptable, go-with-the-flow, and incredibly patient. No matter the amount of prodding we have put you through at the doctor’s office or at home during your couple months of viruses, you stay pleasant and happy.

To add to all the adorable you encompass, perhaps my most favorite thing is how you have refused a pacifier since day one, but once you found those two fingers to suck on you were golden.