9 months old

I know it becomes redundant to hear mothers talk about their disbelief in how old/big/smart their children are, but it really is hard to believe that I have a baby who is now 9 months old. In 3 months, he will be a year old. Whoa.

I remember vividly how desperately I wished to get pregnant, and every day that went by without a baby in me felt like a curse. Now I have everything I wanted. A gorgeous baby that stares into my eyes and smiles at me, and giggles when he sees me. A baby who has surpassed all of my initial expectations.

Occasionally, he just wants to be held. It's not too often, but when he wants to be held, he wants to be held. Sometimes, he'll only go to sleep when he's rocked first. I get frustrated sometimes when I'm trying to do something else and he wants that snuggle time, and I flash back to those nights I spent angry with myself, with God, and with the world because I didn't have a baby to hold, and then to those nights while he was in the NICU on countless wires and machines and I wasn't allowed to hold him. So I hold him as long as he wants.

I think we're in a pretty good rhythm. He's on a good schedule and hasn't thrown me for a big loop in a couple of weeks (which is a loooong time on the loopless Mommy-calendar). He might be getting teeth, but I've thought that for a solid 4 months now. He is starting to balance some when I sit him up, but not for more than a few seconds. Sometimes I really wish he could just tell me what he wants... and I really wish he could find his pacifier by his own self... but most of the time, I love this age. Not too young, not too old.

Every day is a treasure. He might scream all day and nearly drive me to drink, but after I put him down to sleep and see his picture on my desktop, I miss him and can't wait till the next morning.

In 3 months, I'll start saving money on formula. Aahhhh.