In the womb, Tessa was my most active baby. I remember feeling her squirm around very early in my pregnancy, and after that, she was never still. Every moment was filled with kicks and rolls – at her 20-week ultrasound, our tech said it was the most active little one that she had ever tried to measure. All day and all night, never a rest.
In the NICU, they called her “the swimmer.” She never stayed flat on her UV light mat to treat her jaundice, kicking and flailing in her little isolette. The hospital PT was quite impressed.
She rolled at three weeks.
She had an amazing four-point crawl. Still does, actually.
But walking? No.
I didn’t know it would be so hard. She started out so strong and I just didn’t know.
On this day last year, Tessa was not standing or walking independently. She inched closer and closer to her third birthday and showed no sign of these elusive milestones. And it was hard, y’all. She was heavy and I was newly pregnant and exhausted, emotional, frustrated.
But then she walked… no, ran! There was no walking, and then all the sudden, she took off. As is most growth with Tessa, she pushed me to the farthest edge of my ability to not totally freak out, then broke through.
Such is life with this child. And I love her for it.
Yo soy La Lay 
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