He’ll be 7 months on Sunday. Seven months. Seven months ago, I was in painful labor all morning, afternoon, evening, and part of the night long, only to end up on an operating table listening to my doctor and the anesthesiologist talk about Kevin Costner movies and Brinks Home Security while my doctor pulled my child out of an opening in my stomach that he made before I was even aware my doctor was in the room yet. 7 months ago I heard my baby’s first cries... extremely loud for a newborn, I thought. Seven months ago I stayed up all night long because I was too scared to sleep with the baby in the room. I thought if I slept, the baby would not live. 7 months ago I had the worst and best experience of my life on the same exact day. SEVEN MONTHS. It’s getting closer and closer to a year. That makes me so sad. And happy.
He’s such a fun, content little person now. He’s expressive and is developing a sense of humor. He can wave hi and bye. He’s practically crawling. I’ll blink and he’ll be "practically driving". He finally, after months of begging from both Michael and me, can say "dada". He says "dada" when he’s happy and "mama" when he’s sad. Ha.
Oh, and he has upgraded to a big boy convertible carseat that stays in the car now. He looks so teensy in that big ol’ seat.
I still have nightly panic attacks about him not breathing while he’s sleeping. I don’t think they’re going to go away.
In other news, Spring is here, which means HELLOOOO ALLERGIES! My eyes are itchy balls of flame right now. But the weather has been simply beautiful, so I shant complain.
Well... I’m off to do.... other things than this. So long!