20140328-204945.jpgA portrait of my daughter every day in 2014

She had her 18 month check up this week. She’s still kicking ass at growth, in the 76th percentile for weight. That little brain of hers is growing just right too. Although I know she’s wicked smart and developing normally, every so often I can’t help but worry a little. All of that time in the beginning, where her oxygen sats lingered in the 50’s and 60’s, but here she is, so smart and learning something new every day.

A week from today will be the real test, when she goes in for her semi annual heart check up. Helping her stay calm enough for an echo, EKG and an exam is something I am quite apprehensive about. Our no tv rule will be broken and hopefully The Fantastic Mr Fox will be distraction enough to allow for a few good shots of her heart.

I remember back to one of the first developmental assessments she had, when she was just one month old. A woman came to our house. I don’t know what made me think about this today but for some reason it popped into my head. She asked if I could tell the difference in her cries, if I knew what her hungry cry sounded like. I remember being confused, and telling her I never let her get hungry enough to cry. I always fed her at the first sign of stirring. Maybe that was why she was such a happy baby. And why she grew so well, so quickly.

I’m starting to recognize I am outside the norm for continuing to breastfeed her at this age. I find that really sad. She is so much a toddler, but still so much a baby. I will nurse her proudly, for as long as she chooses. The fact that it reduces her risks of getting sick, her risks of numerous ailments later in life and my own risk of four different cancers are reason alone, but the comfort it provides her is unmatched. If only she would allow for that as comfort during her echo and our problems would be solved.

I love this kid. Immeasurably. Her goofy expressions. Her gigantic personality. This child of mine, she is my favorite.

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