December 7, 2011 - January 7, 2012Dear Carys,
Warning in advance: this is a long one! Not that I'm ever succinct. But this is worse than usual. It has to be, though, because this is a big one: SIX MONTHS. Half a year. 180 days. It's incredible what's happened in that time. You've grown so much. Your six month stats? 17 pounds, 11.5 ounces; 75th percentile. 27 1/4 inches long; 85th percentile. Head circumference of 17 inches; 91st percentile. (This is cheating a tiny bit, since they are as of six months and one week, but I won't tell anyone other than the entire internet if you don't tell anyone.) (And by entire internet I obviously mean the two people that read this.) (On a good day.) Compare those to your birth stats of 9 pounds, 20 3/4 inches long, and a 14-inch head. You are over two feet tall. Whoa!
It's incredible to think that at this time last year, I was barely out of the first trimester of pregnancy and had no idea who you were. No idea of the baby you would be, of how much you would fulfill my life, of how much I would adore you. Of course, you assume you'll love your child. I think that's a given. Even Rosemary loved her baby. Probably even Hitler's mom, because I don't think he grew the EvilStache of Doom until he was at least a toddler. But the depth of the love? The intense, overwhelming feeling? It's greater than anything I've ever known. And it grows every. single. day. At this time next year, I expect this love to have rendered me a babbling idiot, as I don't see how any more of my being could possibly be dedicated to loving you while maintaining any semblance of normal activity.
You grew in leaps and bounds from five to six months. Every day you learn something new and every day you demonstrate it...usually over and over and over. Really, I'm so proud that you learned to blow raspberries, darling, but the level of impressiveness does not increase over two hours straight. Also, if you keep making that face, it will freeze that way, I'm told. I think I heard that from the pediatrician.
Just a couple weeks after you turned five months, you learned to sit up alone. You almost entirely skipped the "tripod" phase where you sit and lean forward on your hands in favor of...just sitting. Literally overnight you could sit for minutes on end, and now I can leave you sitting in your room playing while I do laundry or dishes and come back 20 minutes later (peeking in on you constantly and having previously baby-proofed of course) and you'll still be sitting there, playing with your activity cube.
Sitting directly led to our other big milestone - we started solids! We are doing "Baby-led Weaning" (also called "Baby-led Solids"), where you skip cereals, oatmeal, and purees entirely and go right to finger foods. It was exactly what I was looking for: another notch in my hippie belt (since I eat meat and shower, notches are sorely lacking). The information behind it is fascinating, and I won't bore you with a lot of detailed information, but if you're interested this is where I first read about it and then researched more from there. BLW believes in delaying solids until the child exhibits a variety of "readiness" signs that correspond to a physical and mental ability to begin solid foods. These signs generally occur around six months of age. One of the biggest signs is - and here we come full circle in this lovely little story - sitting unassisted. So once you began sitting up, we began giving you solids in the form of finger foods.
I was right from the start. So there.
So at the age of 5 months and 26 days, you had your first trip to the emergency room. By the time we got there, your temperature had climbed to 104.8. They immediately gave you Tylenol to bring it down. The doctor strongly suspected you had pneumonia and ordered chest x-rays and blood tests.
You did not like getting x-rayed. I did not like watching you get x-rayed.
When the test results came back, the doctor was absolutely shocked (his words exactly) to report that you did not have pneumonia. He diagnosed you with two ear infections, bronchitis and perhaps a touch of viral influenza. We came home with a ten-day course oral antibiotics that you absolutely detest. I even tried mixing it with a little bit of chocolate pudding - going against absolutely everything I believe in! - and you spit it right out. So pretty much I force it down your gullet and hold your mouth shut, much like I do when giving the dog medicine.
Before you got sick, we celebrated your first Christmas (below is the only easily accessible picture from Christmas I have...I'll have to do a separate post with the "real" pictures).
Actually, we celebrated your first FOUR Christmases. Each of our parents and then both of my grandparents. Yes, that meant two different houses on Christmas Eve and two different houses on Christmas. And of course we did a small Christmas morning at our house, so really it was five Christmases. At home, I wrapped your presents in tissue paper for easy tearing and you thoroughly enjoyed trying to eat paper. Please note: if you ever run around screaming and demanding "More presents! More!" while throwing your gifts on the floor a la certain children present at one of the celebrations, not only will you not get more presents but I will return all the presents you DID get. Consider yourself warned. This probably makes me a horrible mother, but I only wrapped half your presents. And I kept giving your your presents before Christmas. You were six months old, you wouldn't know the difference. Right? Right. Or so I tell myself to excuse the laziness.
This holiday season was amazing because your Nana, my mom, came back on Christmas break and was here almost three weeks. Having her six hours away is terrible and I miss her every day. She adored being so close to you and we got to hang out quite a bit - though not as often as I would have hoped. Apparently she has other friends and a life outside her oldest daughter and granddaughter. I'm not sure who gave her permission to do that but it certainly wasn't me. The weather was unseasonably warm during her visit, so we went on lots of walks with her, and even got to go the zoo twice (your second and third time, the first being back on Labor Day weekend).
Last time you slept through the whole thing. This time you really noticed and watched the animals... and tried to grab them. You almost got bitten by a bird you tried to grab. Luckily I swooped in and saved your life in the nick of time. First of many times I'll save your life, I'm sure. Don't worry, I'm keeping track.
Your babble and verbal skills continue to explode, and you add new sounds constantly (for a normal day, imagine this video times one hundred in both quantity and decibels).
You are most talkative when you first wake up, and then when you get really really tired. When you're tired, you start out talking which quickly devolves into whining which quickly devolves into crying. So at the first sign of tired talk, we start the bedtime process, which usually involves a bath, book, and then nursing.
At this point it's nurse nurse nurse nurse nurse fall asleep attempt to put down cry cry cry cry break down and nurse more fall asleep put down cry cry cry debate merits of crying it out break down nurse cry nurse cry put down cry cry cry finally fall asleep an hour after we started.
You were doing so well and sleeping through the night, but being so sick and needing that comfort nursing has taken us about ten steps backwards in the sleep process. Life would be about a million times easier if you would take a pacifier, but you still refuse those pieces of plastic evil (as you seem to think). At least, however, you will usually sleep from the time you go down until about 5:30 a.m. and then go back down until 9:00 a.m. or so, with two naps during the day.
In final six-month-update news, we started swim class the day before you turned six months old (shh, don't tell - you were supposed to be six months before we started). It's a parent/child class, so I get into the water with you. How much joy it brought me to be searching for a swimsuit six months after birthing a nine-pound child! Not. But it's worth it - you love it...mostly because you love watching the other kids and looking at all the kites that they have hanging from the ceiling. The place is awesome, with warm 90-degree water, and the teacher is very sweet. It lasts for ten weeks, and I'll probably sign you up for another session afterward, if only to allow me to see other adults once a week.
I think you are truly one of the cutest babies I've met, and your smile makes my heart seize. Like, literally I think it stops for a second. And your giggles? Full on cardiac arrest. I just love you so much, Carys. So very much. I'm so incredibly lucky to have you in my life.