An Open Letter to Lillienne:
Being pregnant for nine months goes by SLOW. It barely goes by at all. I was pregnant forever with you. Nine months back then was ages.
But having you for nine months…went by in a blink. I burped, and you were suddenly nine months old. 9. NINER! Nerf. Or Neuf.
Around this time nine months ago, you were born. You were a c-section baby and nearly 2 weeks late because you were stubborn and decided that you wanted to stay put. My darling daughter, I loved being pregnant with you. I loved carrying you around everywhere I went, feeling your kick when I was out for supper, eating chocolate in the middle of the night, or watching a movie. I loved feeling you kick inside of me. Nine month ago, you were a tiny little thing that could only be laid down on your back, or cuddled. You were a wonderful baby, right from the start. There were a few nights I almost had a break down, but you were pretty easy on your Mama and Daddy, and we felt so lucky to have such a great baby. Nine months ago we had you, eighteen months ago we fell in love with you.
You have changed so much, it’s hard to believe that tiny baby in the pictures was ever you. It’s hard to believe you ever wore such tiny clothes, that you slept a tiny little cradle, that we thought you would wear use those tiny baby mittens so you don’t scratch your eyes out. You’ve gone from newborn to infant to chubby, giggly baby, and our favourite thing is watching you grow up. You’re the light of our lives, you’re the sun and the moon and the stars, and we’re not sure what life was about before you.
These days, you’re crawling faster than the speed of light. You’re reaching, just about waving, and babbling non stop. When we read to you, you try to talk too, and it’s hard to be heard over your boisterous outbursts. You’re still loving yogurt (actually anything edible), and if we are eating and you’re not, that situation is quickly solved. You’re hungry for everything, all the time, yet you’re so dainty and petite and girly.
You’ve got big smiles, bigger energy, and seven teeth. You’re cruising around furniture and must always be moving and pulling yourself up to something. Being horizontal is for slackers.
Today you are nine months old. At this time, nine months ago, you were with Daddy getting your first bath in the hospital, and I was numb from the boobies down, calling everyone and telling them “She looks exactly like me!”
Even though you looked exactly like your Daddy.