six months!

What a cool day: Our son is half a year old! I have been looking forward to this for so long. I find myself reflecting on the seasons and milestones that have passed since that day in August, the day after a thunderstorm, after the heat wave but before the leaves of fall, when our lives changed more than they'd ever done before, when — after feeling him kick and roll and hiccup inside me for months — we met our sweet Daniel in person. How he has grown since then ... developed a little personality, learned to grab and giggle and roll over and gaze at the art on our walls. He seems less and less like a baby and more and more like a little child every day.




As if to celebrate his birthday, Mother Nature dumped inches upon inches of snow on us overnight. We went out in it this morning — put Daniel in his new snowsuit (which used to be his cousin's), popped him into the Ergo and tromped through the unshoveled snow down to Caribou Coffee, where we frittered away the morning in the comfy chairs with coffee and newspapers.


If you'd asked me six months ago if I'd still be breastfeeding by now, I honestly couldn't have told you. I know it hasn't always worked out for members of my family. My sister never got it down in the hospital, and my mom tells me she lasted about three months with each of us. I am so thrilled that I am still going strong with it! I love doing it, too. It makes me feel so bonded with him, even in the middle of the night, when I grumble about being awakened and mutter, "Fine, I'll feed you if that's what you want." I love watching his little hands as they push and knead against my breasts with an unexplainable expertise; it's as if my breasts are musical instruments and he is the virtuoso, knowing exactly (and much better than me) how to get the sound he needs from them. I love the way he pulls away quickly and looks up at me with a smile, then just as quickly turns his mouth back to the task at hand: Just checking in.

I wonder what the next six months will hold for him. Sitting up, crawling, eating more foods, learning more about the world, maybe even walking. I feel so grateful for his life, and I feel so privileged to be a part of it. Sometimes Steve and I lean over him and watch him while he sleeps and marvel (tearfully, in my case) at the whole journey parenthood has started us on, almost as if we can't quite believe it. It's kind of like how giddy we felt when we first got married, saying, "my husband," and "my wife." But now it's "our son." And he's amazing.