At 9 weeks old Ms A is finding her hands slowly but surely and a little more each day. They mesmerise me. Their intricacy, delicateness, the way she’s working them out.
They’re a mean feat of engineering.
She’s realising she has them and can use them.
They used to lie by her side loosely clenched without a mind, snuggled next to her newness, they’d throw up in the air wide fingered as a natural reflex when startled, but all in all they hadn’t really been found.
Now at 9 weeks she’s no doubt found them and now has to master them.
She’s very quickly learning to grasp things with speed, my hair that brushes over them will confirm that. Her grip is growing.
I think she now knows that she has two of them as she’s started grasping them onto each other, working each other out. Stretching her fingers and almost tapping their tips together like someone with a master plan to take the world….
That’s fine by me ????????
She’ll find her feet too, and her wings will grow.
Ms A is fleeting right before my eyes and I’m trying to saviour it. Inhale it. Slow it down… but absorbing it to the max.
I watch her when she sleeps.
I’ve no doubt I’ll forget her finding her hands.
I hope she uses them wisely. To reach for things even when she thinks they are out of grasp. To hold things close to her heart that are so dear to her she daren’t let them slip through her fingers. To embrace things and high five all that is good.
I hope she’s able to have the ability to catch others with them when they fall.
I hope she grasps onto the world with those hands, and if not, then I’ll still hold her hand as tightly as the grasp she firmly has on my heart ????
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