… she’s ten months, a week and a few days old, but her eyes tell me she won’t stay my little fluffy babygirl for long. Her personality emerges more and more each day and she already knows what “no!” means, as in “no, you don’t get to bite me while nursing, thankyouverymuch”. It hurts my heart a little, but having a child has taught me to let go more than anything else in life.
… physically, she’s a bit slow. Only recently learned how to roll over, and still very far from sitting up or standing up on her own, let alone walking. I attribute it to the c-section and don’t worry much. she has her own pace, that’s ok with me. (except for the part where I actually have a full-time job as public transportation vehicle 
)
… she made me realize I need to know myself better, so that I can make conscious parenting choices and not just pass along those behavioral patterns I inherited from my parents, not just act on reflex, but know what I’m doing and why. So, therapy it is. Everyone needs it anyway, no?
… she’s sweet and funny, and cute, and I have absolutely no smart closing line, ’cause she’s teething like a mink and I have succumbed to Mommy Brain. But I need to reclaim this space as my own and right now nothing says “me” more than that bittersweet heartache about her fleeting baby-ness…
