eight

Our little Teapot is eight months old. How did this happen? Suddenly she is sitting up by herself, almost crawling, and eating solid food. I look back at photos of her as a one-month-old and I can’t believe she was ever that little. When was the last time I had to support her head? When was the last time she stayed where I put her down? The last time she slept in my arms? (That one was Aug. 10. We were at the beach. My sister had walked with her down to the oceanfront where it was extreme low tide while I stayed high and dry by the concessions. She fell asleep in my sister’s arms on the walk back. She stayed asleep while I transferred her into my arms, head heavy and drooping against my chest. She slept for another 20 minutes that way. It was just like old times.)

Even now, I realize that there are many “lasts” on their way – some of them soon. I read a thread on a parenting forum asking whether you remembered your baby’s final nursing session. We aren’t there yet, but we will be. Will I remember to savour it? Commit it to memory… or better yet, commit it to words? I hope so. Other lasts: Our last day of maternity leave together. The last time she will wear that onesie, or that sleeper; fall is coming, and those summer clothes in size 6-12 months are getting their final weeks of wear.

Oh, my heart.

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