As I type those words, eleven months, I feel this anxious skip in my heart.
How can it be that my baby, born in such beautiful fashion, is speeding toward measuring age in years, rather than months? I mean, I should know this is coming, right? Six kids. Not my first rodeo.
I am in disbelief that our first year with Gianna is nearing the end. I adore her beyond belief and every morning I wake up and think, “Praise Jesus, she’s still nursing and I can call her my baby!” That moment is never lost on me. I’ve seen too much to waste that love.
The kids are still arguing over who gets to hold her first when they bound in the door from school. They barely get out a “hey Mom” as they load into the van before I hear the chorus of:
“I want to hold her.”
“No, I asked first!”
“Huh-uh, you held her first yesterday!”
“Mom, that’s not fair!”
I love it.
She is #thisclose to crawling. Gianna has figured out how to get up on all fours and go from that to sitting. She rocks and then pushes herself backward. Once she figures out that those legs can move forward? Look out. No lego or piece of artwork will be safe. Today? Today, I caught her eating paper off the floor.
She’s sporting EIGHT teeth. Yes, she’s bitten me once while nursing and I almost passed out from the pain. But, that was three weeks ago, so praying it was a one-time deal. Someone asked how long I’ll keep it up. You’re asking the wrong person. I’ve nursed all my babies to a year and then after that, the weaning is up to them. I do know that once my body hits four feedings, it’s touch and go on my milk supply. I can already tell it’s starting to wane even though I’m pounding the water. Time will tell.
Lately, she’s been doing this grin and eye squint. I need to get that on film. It’s ridiculously adorable.
She’s still eating baby food, but has decided that Cheerios, yogurt melts and fruit puffs aren’t too bad. I’m guessing in another six weeks she’ll be on table food? Who knows. I’m finding that transition to be horribly stressful because it is triggering some major PTSD from Luke’s four-year battle with food. I’m cutting myself some slack and we’re taking it slow.
Praise Jesus that she’s sleeping through the night. Most nights I nurse her and put her in the crib around 7:30pm and then have to wake her at 7am. On a good day, she’ll take two naps, but I think she’s trying to give up the morning nap. I’m in negotiations with her to keep it until the fall. We’ll see who wins.
She loves being fed, snuggling, grabbing my glasses, seeing her brothers and sisters and being kissed. Good thing, because she gets approximately 1,354,379 a day. Gianna is the happiest, most laid back baby around. I can cart her anywhere and she’s perfectly content.
Basically, we’re smitten with her and we’re soaking up these last few weeks before she hits the big ONE. Word on the street is her birthday will be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!