Up On All Fours
Charlevoix, MI. 180° South and North views over Lake Michigan at the same time.
Thursday last week, we packed the car and drove to Charlevoix, MI. It’s about a 4 1/2 - 5 hour drive north of Detroit near the tip of the Mitten State. It was a weekend that we had booked in pen on our calendar for at least 3-4 months. Help take care of our two young critters while their mommy was rocking it at the local Apple Fest with her Hive North business… that was our assignment. The Apple Fest began on Friday and went through Sunday. Our son needed to work on Friday, and it would be good to be an extra 2 pair of hands and legs for the weekend ahead. So, off we went, in our little olive Subaru.
I did something I haven’t done in a long time. I read a book out loud to Scott in the car. Reading in the car previously always made me nauseous during my growing up and early adult years… so much so that I just never realized that my body had changed. I was rereading a book that I remembered loving. I had written about it in my book journal before I had found my reflection voice so I really couldn’t remember what I loved so much about it from what was written. Because I want to share it on my blog at some point, I thought I had best reread it. The thing is… when I read this book the first time, I think I was so enamored with the plot that I missed or didn’t fully take in many of the details and the beautiful writing. Besides, sharing a book out loud with someone you love, makes it all the more enjoyable.
We stayed nearby at an AirBnB and went over each morning to care for the boys (2 years old and 5 1/2 months old). We walked back and forth to the Apple Fest downtown for Nathaniel to nurse. When he wasn’t in the front pack, nursing or sleeping, he was spending a lot of time gnawing on my finger and getting up on all fours. I spent a lot of time just watching him, watching the process. I watched his astonishment with himself. I watched his curiosity with what his body was doing and accomplishing. I watched his mounting frustration with something he knew was supposed to be but he didn’t know what it was. I watched as he rocked back and forth on all fours. I watched as he flopped forward and cried. Cried because he knew something was supposed to happen next but he didn’t know what it was and that recent belly flop didn’t feel so good either.
I watched as he tried again and again and as he wore himself out. I soothed him when his self soothing wore out. He napped. He ate. We walked. We talked. We laughed and ate toes. We tickled. We giggled. We played with big brother, Christopher. Nathaniel observed Christopher —walking, running, crawling, talking, being bigger, doing more. He gnawed a couple more teeth through the gums this weekend. He napped. He tried the all fours thing again. He tried the rocking thing again. And Lo… his left knee moved an inch forward… and his right knee followed… Amazed. Pleased and Proud showed up on his face. Then lunge and belly flop and frustration and wails. With determination in his eyes, he stretched out his body like a parachuter in free fall. I observed —amazed and delighted at his developing strength and inner body knowing. I was processing how the body developments all come online like the rainbow spinny thing that makes us wait for a program to run on a computer.
I’ve seen this all before. I have four adult kids, I’m an aunt, I have friends with kids, I baby sat at a young age… but there is something very different about being a grandparent… and yes, I’ve heard that line before. But, when responsibilities are removed, awe has more time and space to spread out. Being a grandparent is like rereading a beautiful and well-loved book. As a grandparent, I’m not as concerned with the plot — like making sure the plot is on a certain trajectory by directing it or pushing it along or discovering it for the first time myself. I can sit with the details longer and with more attention and a deeper knowing because the previous experiences have informed me.
Again, Nathaniel and I spent time on the floor, up on all fours. A day had passed, a good night’s sleep — or maybe it was just SOME sleep — anyway he was ready to have another go at what his body knew he was supposed to be working on. He squirmed and arched when held. He needed the floor to stretch out.
Up on all fours. Concentrate. Be determined. What’s the next thing my body is supposed to do? Do I fight it? Do I embrace it? Do I resist it? Is resisting part of the process? Is the resisting strengthening my muscles? Creating in me the feeling of what is next?
And… 2 inches — the left knee jerks and slides forward!! Wow!! Ooh — there’s the right knee catching up with the left knee. Somehow those knees knew they must move! I rock back and forth waiting for the next step to reveal itself for what I’m supposed to do. I feel a sense of accomplishment, but I also know there’s more. I feel the strength growing in my arms, but they stay right where they are —Are they too supposed to move?
Oh!!! The physical development of human beings is truly amazing! I’ve actually given this a lot of pondering. We are hardwired as a species and as individuals. Our bodies seem to know how to grow and develop one step at a time, one ever-so-slight-movement-at-a-time particularly when provided the right environment. It doesn’t have to be fancy or perfect—just healthy and safe.
Our bodies seem to have a mind of their own — an inside knowing, almost ancient, of how to move.
On the drive home, in the very hilly parts, we were listening to an episode of a favorite podcast. Part of the episode addressed being present and only focusing on the next step and that the next step would present itself. I instinctively know this, but sometimes it’s good to hear it again. But it reminded me how much attention I’d been giving to the process of Nathaniel’s crawling — each small movement and how it built upon the one before it and contributed to what would come next. I knew the arms would be next because of my experience, and Nathaniel’s body knew it too — AND IT WAS BEAUTIFUL to observe. Next time I see him his brain and body will have communicated. His arms will have gotten the message and he will be on his way to the next step because that’s what baby humans do.
So, I take this message into myself. I focus and pay attention to my body, heart and brain. I listen to where I am and what I’m doing, consider my next step even when I don’t know what it is.
Perhaps, it’s simply one knee at a time…
