Eight Months...

Mila Carys, the seasons are changing and I find myself drifting away to a year ago, pregnant and glowing and dreaming of this little pink bundle in my arms.  The fall means a lot of things to me --- soup and red wine, good books and warm blankets, apples and pumpkins and now, babies.  I can't drive by the hospital without tearing up, thinking of those precious first days in the hospital.  Maybe it's baby fever already, but I think it's more so the fact that you are growing so fast and seeming less baby all the time.  Sometimes, I wish I could just go back to our first night in the hospital together, laying on my side with your little bassinet pulled up right next to me, laying face to face all night long.  You slept so good your first night and I just stared at your perfect face all night, thanking the heavens for making me your mama.
  

And while it's true I loved you as that tiny 6 lb. baby instantly, we all continue to fall more in love with you every day.  I'm convinced 8 months is one of my favorite baby months and we can't get enough of your spirited personality, your round chubby face, and your perfectly plump cheeks.  I could literally stare at your face all day long.  Your infectious smile and joyful bounce whenever someone talks to you is your trademark, and you bring happiness to anyone you meet.  We love that about you and hope you continue to be a little light for those around you.

I don't ever want to forget how you smile and bounce in my arms when you see your brother for the first time in the morning, or hear music on TV, or see yourself in the mirror.  I don't want to forget how you bury your face in my chest when you're sleepy or feeling shy.  I don't want to forget how you concentrate on picking up those cheerios with your fist and slowly bring it to your mouth, closing your eyes as you fill your cheeks like a chipmunk.  I don't want to forget how your eyes light up when I rinse you with the shower hose in the tub or how you face plant your sudsy water in your bath over and over again, popping up like a fishy with your face covered in suds and of course, always smiling.  I don't want to forget how you cry whenever I set you down and look so satisfied when I pick you back up because I know you won't always need me the way you do now. 

Here's to EIGHT MONTHS, little girl.  To my Cheerio and pea fisting, almost crawling, 'mama' jabbering, dancing queen.  You learned to wave bye bye this month, shake your head no, and snort like a piggie.  You popped your sixth tooth, eat peaches and Puffs and lentils and Cheerios like it's your job, and continue to sleep 10-11 hours at night.  Keep up the good work, big girl.  I have a feeling that next month will bring a mobile baby mover.  We're ready. :)