I write this as you sleep on my chest. You’ve spent most of the morning either on me, or crying because you want to be on me. I’m a bit worn out, and struggling to get any work done, and yet I’m totally okay with that. You see, today you turn seven months old. You are so much bigger than you were seven months ago, and so much more fun. It was hard in the beginning with you, but now we have such a great time together, it feels like all the bad stuff has faded into distant memory.
At the moment, the hardest thing with you is your separation anxiety. It’s a new development, and a totally normal one. You see, you’ve finally figured out that you and I are two separate beings, and that I can be further away or closer to you. You obviously prefer being close. All the time. And as hard as it is when I need to work or eat or shower or sleep, it’s amazing to know that this tiny little person you are knows who I am, and wants me around.
I can’t even begin to describe the amount of love that I feel for you. You are my little one, my monkey, my munchkin, my angel face. You have totally changed my life, and I’m totally okay with that. I spend many days tired, worn down or just a bit frazzled, and I’m increasingly late to get places, and yet it’s all worthwhile. In just seven months, you have totally changed everything.
Today, you have been out of my body for as long as you were in it. Normally that sort of statement would come at 9 months, but you decided to come early, and so we get to celebrate early. I hope you like the world so far. It hasn’t always been easy for you, especially at the start, but I think you’ve learned that I am your safe place, your mommy.
So what am I hoping for you this month? It will be fun for you to start discovering food, although it’s fine if you stay on the boob. I’d love for you to experiment with scooting around – you seem so desperate to crawl, I know you will be very happy to have your own means of getting around. And I would be overjoyed if your babbling noises could come together into something that sorta sounds like Mama or Dada.
I’m sure your daddy would also love that. He keeps wanting you to grow up, wanting you to be able to communicate and tell us what’s wrong. And yet it seems to be happening so fast. How have seven months already passed? How are you already able to sit, to smile, to play the way you do? You continue to amaze me every day my little Harley, and I’m so very proud of you.
I love you, precious baby.
Mommy (aka, best place to sleep)