I have to say things are so much easier now that Maggie isn't a newborn. Andrew and I often reflect about those first few months and how there really are no words to describe what parents go through when a new person enters this world. Utter exhaustion? Complete hopelessness? Surprising newness? Supreme joy? Instead its just one huge bag of inexpressible, unidentifiable emotion.
Now we see the light.
Now I can actually indulge in a full night of sleep.
Now I no longer need to be attached to a breast pump every two hours.
Now I can communicate with my little one even though no words are exchanged.
Now I feel a little more in control.
Now I feel like myself again. Finally.
And we exchange giggles. She giggles to herself. I laugh at her. She giggles at me. I laugh at her giggling at me.
By golly, I think we've made it.
At eight months Maggie...
...weighs, well, let's just say she is heavy.
...wears mostly 12-month clothes.
...sleeps from 6-6 with minimal adult intervention!
...rambles in an unknown language. Coos to songs.
...eats. it. all. She would probably finish an entire avocado if we'd let her.
...does everything but crawl: spins on her belly, scoots on her butt, pulls up on anything.
...has to always be moving, moving, moving.
...constantly reaches for Mommy and Daddy (yay?).
...enjoys animal noises.
...had her first haircut (but really, there's only so much that can be done with that particular head of hair...)!
...gives intentional kisses.
Up next? Month nine.
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