I think they may have felt the same way about having their photo taken this morning.
A portrait of my daughter every day in 2014 This girl is definitely my child. Fall is her season.
We’ve been without hot water for a week now and looks like we will be well into next week too. One of the many reasons I am extremely grateful my family lives within walking distance, as we have all been bathing there the past few days. The joys of obscure water heaters with hard to find parts.
It’s 7:30 and she’s already asleep. My thoughts are as follows:
-It won’t last. By 10pm she will be up and ready to party.
-She’s exhausted. Switching to this new schedule has been immensely hard on all of us, least of all her, yet we all seem to forget about it. We now work opposite shifts, barely seeing each other and totally ruining her naps. Pretty much her entire life she’s fallen asleep nursing. Now I am at work when she needs a nap, so my husband has to resort to whatever works to get her to sleep, that means car rides, stroller rides or movies. It’s far from ideal and hard on them both.
-I’m considering going to sleep this early myself. I’m tired and run down, but I have a feeling the second I fall asleep she will be up.
-Time to get off of my ass and get stuff done. Laundry, dishes and who knows what else are waiting for me.
We will see if it lasts, 7:30 is quite early for this kiddo these days, and in my experience usually turns into a nap. Cross your fingers for me.
Every time I look at a calendar and see today’s date I feel like I’m forgetting something. Like I have something to do. I stare at the calendar for a minute and finally I remember. There’s a reason 9/23 seems familiar to me, and it probably always will. It’s the day my 4 day old baby was transferred from one hospital to the next. I watched her loaded into a specially equipped NICU ambulance which we followed with baited breath. I think the process of transferring her was one of the most nerve wracking experiences in our entire hospital stay. Watching them unhook, reattach and move her tiny body with less finesse then I would have hoped nearly gave me a heart attack. It was terrifying, but it was also the day someone finally told me my daughter was going to live. Coming to the children’s hospital brought us hope, staff who understood her heart and people who were used to far worse. Gone was the nurse who told me she was “cautiously optimistic ” and we were surrounded by people who were confident and thorough. There were more terrifying days in the coming weeks, and I’m sure there will be again in our future.
Two years ago the idea of this girl becoming who she is today didn’t even enter my mind. But today she is growing right before my eyes, getting smarter each and every day. Maybe some day I will forget what today means, my memories will fade and change and be replaced by new memories. Today it’s still fresh, but some day soon it won’t be.