A love letter to first words, tiny kicks, and the magic of early motherhood
One little word I’d longed to hear since before he was even born — and he finally said it.
Two weeks ago, I was looking right at him, saying “Dada” over and over again like I had been for months. And then, out of nowhere, he shocked me by saying it back.
The next day — Halloween — it was “Mamama!” again and again, his little voice babbling without meaning. But I didn’t care. I was thrilled, delighted, stunned. Both of his first words, back to back in the same weekend. A perfect kind of magic.
But today? Today it meant something.
He was sitting on his dad’s lap when he reached his arms toward me, locked eyes with mine, and said it with purpose:
“Mama.”
He did the same thing yesterday, too — but I assumed it was just a fluke and didn’t let myself believe it. Today, there was no mistaking it.
He knows who I am.
I’m Mama.
I remember one day when I was still pregnant, sitting at my desk at work. For days, I’d thought I maybe felt him move — tiny flutters, soft shifts I couldn’t quite be sure of. But that day, I knew. He kicked, again and again. He was in there, my boy, saying hello in the only way he could.
I smiled so big at my desk, and no one else had a clue. It was just me and him, a little secret world of our own. I miss that sometimes — that quiet kind of closeness. That language only we knew: I’d sing, and he’d kick. I’d talk, and he’d twist.
There are moments in motherhood that feel like pure magic.
Last week, he suddenly decided he was done with the baby bath seat. Sat right up, wiggled out, and that was that — another milestone, another baby item packed away. Growing, growing, growing.
Maybe none of it is truly extraordinary — babies all over do these same things every day. But to me, it is extraordinary. It’s the most amazing thing in the world… until he does the next amazing thing.
The first smile.
The first laugh.
The first time he rolled over in his crib.
And now:
“Mama.”
I want to remember how it felt — all of it. I want to bottle up the magic of these moments, to hold on tight before they slip away.
One day, when he’s grown, I’ll look at him — this boy who once kicked to the rhythm of my voice, who once reached out and said my name — and I’ll remember.
And in that moment, I know he’ll do it all over again:
He’ll steal my heart with just one little word.
Mama.
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