Eight Months

Dear Peeper:

You are eight months old today, and I can't get over what a big girl you are getting to be.

You are sitting up on your own pretty reliably now. You do fall over eventually, but usually catch yourself and end up on your belly.

That really pisses you off, but you're not getting hurt on the way down, so I'm not too worried about it.

(I make sure you're not sitting close enough to anything to bump your head when you fall.)

You are really trying to stand up, but still need a lot of help. You also don't know yet that you're not supposed to let go once you're up there, so that's sort of a problem.

Luckily, since you needed help to get up, there's always someone there to catch you when you come back down.

Once you're getting up on your own, I guess you'll have to learn about gravity the hard way.

I really hate the idea of you learning anything the hard way, but I don't suppose you'll believe us if we just sit you down and explain it to you, so I guess it's the only option for now.

Your other big activity these days is teething, which is not particularly fun for any of us.

I said a few weeks ago that I knew you were working on some teeth, but that I didn't think we'd actually see them before you were eight months old. I wish I'd been wrong about that, because they have really been bothering you the past few days.

You've been getting lots of baby Tylenol, which luckily, you really like the taste of, as well as Hyland's teething tablets, which seem to help, and some Baby Orajel, which also seems to help, but I try to save it for really desperate times, because it's so nasty, and makes your mouth feel so weird.

(Or, at least, it makes my mouth feel weird. And judging from the look on your face and your tongue movements, it has the same effect on you.)

I've stopped making note of every little thing you're eating, because you're eating just about everything.

Yesterday, I was talking to Anonygrandma about the menu for our visit down there in a couple of weeks, and I realized that, with the exception of some choking hazards and other baby absolute no-nos like honey, that your diet is much more limited by your dairy sensitivity than it is by the fact that you're eight months old and don't have any teeth.

Oh yeah, the dairy thing. Well, we're still not sure what the story is there. I've tested it a few times (always with Sheetz macaroni and cheese -yum), and it seems like maybe your little booty gets red after a post-diary poopy, and doesn't usually get red after a dairy-free poopy.

But not necessarily, so it's a little hard to decide. For instance, you got pretty red after a non-dairy poop earlier in the week.

I've not had any in a few days, and your booty's been looking pretty good (Good = not red; it always looks cute, of course!) so I think I'll have some today or tomorrow and we'll see what happens.

It's very frustrating, but we were told that you'll probably outgrow it, so we're very optimistic that we'll both be able to eat dairy eventually, but I want to be sure you're all clear before I go back to it full time.

More significant than any of that, though is that, finally, you are "filling out" and the comments we're getting from both friends and strangers have suddenly shifted from, "She's so tiny!" and "What a little peanut!" (What the hell is up with the "peanut" thing, anyway?) to things like "Look at those fat little thighs!" and "Oh, those cheeks!" and "I just love chubby babies!"

You're really still not all that chubby, but do have some serious thighs and cheeks, which is about all that shows when I'm wearing you. Well, you are getting a bit of a tummy, too, now that I think about it.

Of course, they think you are a chubby five month old (we know two babies that age who weigh more than you) and are surprised to hear how old you actually are, but it's still such a nice change, and it makes me very proud - of both of us.

After all the stress and worry that we've been through, related to your size, breastfeeding, and growth, it just blows my mind to hear people say things like that.

I don't know quite how big you are these days, but we're going to stop by the pediatrician's office for a weight check on Monday, right after your appointment with the cardiologist (because we don't believe his scale), and of course, I will be reporting on that to all your interweb fans.

It's kind of wierd to be going back to the cardiologist, because in such a short time, we've gotten use to not going to him.

It's amazing how quickly you've gone from taking medicine several times a day, and seeing a cardiologist every week or two and preparing for / having / recovering from surgery to just being a baby.

A normal baby.

Still small, even for your gestational age, but a healthy, normal, chubby-thighed, chubby-cheeked baby.

And, as much as we've gotten used to it, and as much as the days of medicine and weekly doctor's visits and worrying seem like a million years ago, we're still not quite sure we believe it.

Earlier this week, Mommy and I admitted to each other that we're both a little nervous about this appointment on Monday, because things have just been going too smoothly lately, and it just seems too good to be true.

Of course, even during the worst of your medical adventures, you have always seemed too good to be true.

It's been eight months, and I still sometimes look at you and say, "Oh my God. We have a kid! How do we get to have a kid?"

You are simply the most amazing, incredible, beautiful thing that has ever happened to me (Sorry, Mommy. You are a close second.) and I am thankful everyday for whatever it is that has made you possible.

I love you my little peanut chipmunk.


Love,
Mama