May 17, 2008 - Brianna's Smiles

"Brianna smiles. It lights up her face. Her eyes glow, her cheeks dimple, and those four little teeth peek at me, barely risen above the gums. She kicks and coos, and I swear she must be the happiest baby in the world."

I wrote that a few months ago when I was taking a writing class through the community college. It was part of an "image notebook" we had to keep: in depth descriptions of things we saw, felt, heard, tasted, or smelled throughout the week.

Of all the things about parenting that there are to love, it's Brianna's smiles that I love the most. They're always so open, and so freely given. They're so contagious. And she is completely unable to contain them. Even when she's pouting, you can make her smile. She might go right back to pouting after the smile, but she can't help but smile, regardless.

Today, Brianna was exceptionally giggly. Standing in line at the pharmacy at Wal Mart, waiting to pick up Brianna's formula, Brianna started to get fussy. All it took to have her laughing was a dip. Just a lowering of my right arm, a raising of my left, so that she was tipped upside down, and she was giggling and smiling again.

Later, we took a lunch to my sister at work, and sat and visited with Auntie and the cook, who is a friend of mine, and Brianna was kicking and stepping and arching away, happy as can be. After a while, that gets to be tiring. Especially when she starts tryign to knock us both backwards. So, I started dipping her again. She started laughing and smiling again. I had her sitting on my knees, my hands behind her back, dipping her back and forth. Every time I would raise her up, she would roll her eyes back in her head and tip her head back again to show me that she wanted to go backwards again. She took such glee in such a simple action, it was wonderful.

Later still, creeping up on bedtime, I was playing with her yet again. Doing the same thing. And she was busting out into gales of laughter. Uncontrollable belly laughs, the kind that you can't help but laugh along with. And in that laugh, I didn't hear a baby. I heard a little girl. And I had to face the truth: my baby girl is growing up. She isn't a baby any more, no matter how much she may still look like one, and no matter how much I want her to still be one. She's learning to do things, taking in her surroundings, and becoming so much a little girl, I can't help but look ahead to the years to come, and imagine who she will become. She's such an amazing little thing, and her capacity to learn and do things is as yet untested. It's only been 2 1/2 years since the car accident. Studies show that brain injuries can continue to heal up to 4 years after the injury. So by that token, Brianna can still make some amazing progress in her growth and development. Not to mention the fact that she's not quite three years old. To me, there is still hope for the things she might one day be able to do. Granted, she will more than likely never perform brain surgery, or any kind of surgery for that matter. But she could learn to talk. She could learn to put on a pair of socks. There are still so many things left that she might yet learn to do. And all of those things flash through my mind every time Brianna smiles.