(That’s not exactly true—in certain areas I have felt each second as it’s slowly ripped a chunk of my sanity from my brain in passing. But I’m not going to complain about those things right now.)
One year ago this was me.
Good Christ I looked tired. I was tired. Worn slap out, actually. I don’t honestly look much more alive at the moment, but I certainly don’t feel as dreadful as I did when this picture was taken. Two small monkeys (God, how they’ve changed! They look like such wee babes!), eight months pregnant with the third, non-stop, never-ending nightmares about every particular detail in life, LE total!And then, whoosh! I lost a whopping 10 kilos in one day! 10 kilos is over twenty pounds. In. A. Day. And I got this out of the deal:
I still think this was the best birth of the three. Marc got to stay with me, and while I’m fine talking to the nurses and other OB/OR staff, it was really nice to have him there. And he got to hear her first cries, something he missed the two times before. And I still have someone with whom I can joke about what a purple Hulk-like creature she resembled when we first go to see her. We’re both still amazed by that. And her uni-lid, Cyclopes forehead. We’re terrible people, I know.Now, a year later, well, look:
She looks not at all the same. Instead of being off the charts on the high side, her weight is now almost off the charts on the low side. She’s still growing fine, and developing fine, but food? Bah! Who needs it! (Yes, it’s a continuing battle, but we’re getting there.) She’s not walking, not really technically crawling, but she does get around using her hands and her cheeks—yes, those cheeks, not the ones in the picture). And she says “mama” all the time and “papa” not at all, which I love because FINALLY I have a child who wants ME and not just Papa 24/7. And at one year she’s still all baby, sweet, cuddly, lovable baby.
Happy Birthday Melly-Belly!
Happy Birthday to the sweetest little goddaughter that ever was! :D