We longed for the day. We were saddened thinking about the day.

We coaxed, finger-walked, and held her using her armpits as a fingerhold.

We held out toys, waved objects, and tried to add allure by using sound makers and bright colors.

And the day finally came.

Thinking about the big milestones is much like thinking about the “miracle” of birth: you know that miracles need to be unusual, and given the numbers (4,131,019 in the U.S. alone in 2009), it’s not (“National”). Most of those children go on to walk. If everyone does it, how unusual can it be?

Sometimes, it’s the ordinary nature of something that makes it so special. We walk every day. We ambulate, we pad around; we dawdle, speed, and meander with little thought of how we do so. Watching a baby learn reminds us of our own accomplishment. Of course, we don’t think of that consciously in the moment, and that is what matters least, anyhow.

What matters is that, in that moment, the rest of the world doesn’t matter. My cheer went up as if my team had won the Super Bowl, and April 17th will always be an important day to me. My daughter took her first step, and I’m happy to call that a little bit of a miracle.

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“National Vital Statistics System: Birth Data.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
6 Apr. 2011. Web. 20 Apr. 2011.

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