I cannot predict. So let me stop.
I cannot accelerate. So let me pause.
I cannot control. So let me release.
–From Before You Predict a Child’s Future, Try This Instead by Hands Free Mama
My darling boy is taking his own sweet time before he decides he’s ready to crawl. I respect his timeline. I also think it quite considerate of him to grant me some additional time to get my apartment childproofed. The trouble, though, is that others are not so willing to respect that. I get constant questions and comments: “Is he crawling yet?”; “My child started crawling when he/she was [insert age here]”; “Maybe he’ll just go right to walking.” So many questions and comments that I began to worry that, perhaps, something was out of sync. ‘m also getting pretty good at figuring E out, though: he is perfectly content to hang out, to observe, to interact from exactly where he happens to be planted. He is in no hurry. For anything, really.
Then, I read this post from Hands Free Mama, one of the mothering blogs I turn to regularly for sanity. She reminded me that kids develop at their own pace and instead of fretting, we should slow down, pause, reflect (those statements that began this post, actually) and lose ourselves in wonder. WONDER, not worry. I needed to hear that so I could quiet the concerns that were creeping up around my resolve and have something to say when another person, inevitably, said the “c” word.
Now, I might say in response to those questions:
Nope, he’s not crawling yet and that’s okay. He will when he’s ready and I love him and will give him as much time and space as he needs to figure out what he wants to do. What’s the rush?
Look at what he loves to do at this moment! Isn’t being an almost-ten-month old simply amazing?!
And any others that come up that help me to remember that this is the moment and that I love my boy and that the day will come, indeed, when he does something different, on his own volition. (Besides, from what everyone says, once they start moving, everything changes.)
This moment, right now, is a wonder. My boy is a wonder. The fact that I am this child’s mother is a wonder (personally, perhaps my biggest wonder of all). Amazing what I can do when I realize “I cannot accelerate” and “pause,” instead. That, actually, is the wonder.