Eleven months…and I spent most of yesterday thinking: my baby is almost one. She is becoming more and more of a little girl each day, and yet neither of us are ready to let go of her babyhood. The sweet snuggles, the night nursing sessions, the way she still loves to fall asleep on my chest…
Eleven months…and I can barely remember life without her. I haven’t slept through the night since the day she was born, and yet I wouldn’t have it any other way (well, maybe). The demands of motherhood can be exhausting at times…but they’re mere moments that quickly melt away. Her laughter. Her smiles. The way she mimics us. The pride she takes in her ability to throw a ball, to crawl, to clap her hands. This is what had made her first eleven months magical.
Eleven months…and I have so many people to thank. My mother. Ryan’s mom. My sisters. My friends. And of course, my sweet husband. Raising a child requires a village, and I’ve only come to believe this more and more. I love watching my daughter interact with her family. The delight she takes in them is only matched by the delight they take in her.
Eleven months…and she talks all the time. Mama, Papa, Dog, Cat, Chicken, Apple, Bird. The words continue to come, and each one is like a jewel to me. Nothing more precious. She crawls and pulls herself up on anything and everything, but she’s still not walking (and I’m actually quite happy she’s taking her time). She’s been ahead on the developmental milestones since birth, so I thought for sure we’d have an early walker. But I know she’ll walk when she’s ready…and then once she does…I’m sure she’ll run!
Eleven months…and I feel the deepest sense of joy watching my daughter in this world.
