Happy Birthday

My daughter turned 9 months old on the 20th. 9 months ago on March 20th at 8:25 in the morning I gave birth to a child that for weeks looked like a raw chicken, she was that tiny and scrawny. This morning that same child ate 1/4 of a stage 3 jar of Chicken and Stars, 1 whole stage 3 jar of green beans, corn and rice, and 1 whole stage 3 jar of fruit dessert mixed with oatmeal cereal, plus a cup of juice. (In case you hadn't noticed, I don't make my own baby food!) Where exactly did the last 9 months go?

Sometimes I feel like I missed the first few months courtesy of the PPD but then I look at all the pictures we have of her from those first months and I realize I was there, just not all the time. I promised myself when she came along that I would savor those moments when she just wanted to be held more than I had with the boy. I did, a little bit. I wish I had savored them more.

Our daughter was a HUGE surprise. There are a lot of pieces to the store and I may have even told it before but the short form is as follows. After a medical diagnosis, we were told that I wouldn't be able to have anymore kids until the disease was cured or at least very well managed. I started radiation treatments and found out after my first one that I was pregnant. EVERY SINGLE TEST I TOOK WAS NEGATIVE. I even had a blood test- NEGATIVE. I could not tell you much about the morning I got the positive test except that I was scared out of my mind because I was convinced that our unborn child was going to have 4 heads and 3 arms. We were not ready for another baby. We were not prepared. We were nervous. I was scared about what this pregnancy would do to my body and how my medications would affect my baby. I was watched VERY closely over the next 8.5 months. We hit a number of bumps in the road but on March 20th after 12 hours of induced labor and 4 pushes our teeny tiny preemie entered the world- perfectly. She didn't open her eyes much for the first month or so- slightly nerve wracking. She put herself back to sleep after her middle of the night feedings- amazingly wonderful. She ate like a champ- 50 ounces of formula by the time she was 3 or 4 months. Where did the time go?

I still have my moments with her. So much about my pregnancy and birth with her made me nervous. I scrutinized every little move she made or did not make. She was and still is so different from the boy and how he grew and developed. (He was on time- she was 5 weeks early) I worry that she's not doing the same things that the boy was doing at her age. Then I remember, she's a month behind. She wasn't ready to come- but she had to so that both of us could survive. I remember that kids are SO VERY DIFFERENT. They develop so differently. They do things at different times and sometimes they don't do the same things at all. I remember that when it's time for her to do what she's supposed to, she will.

My son, along with his grandmother and my grandmothers, taught me how to be a mom. My daughter has taught me the patience it takes to be a mom to two. To two different children. To two unique babies. To two wonderful humans. As we get ready to celebrate her first Christmas I can't help but be eternally grateful that the doctors were wrong. I can't help but wonder what right now would be like if we hadn't been pregnant at this time last year. I can't help but consistently surprised by the gift that we have been given in our two kids and by the gift that we all receive each Christmas.