How Did She Grow Up So Fast!

My child is almost 7 months old!! She has two teeth. She eats solids. She can sit. AND she can army crawl and get up on her knees. She's quick! She's also a goof. :D Update: of the five masses on her liver, three are missing! Disappearing cancer. The other two lesions are smaller and the adrenal mass is a titch smaller. She's gainging weight and she's extremely tall!

I have been meaning to write. Though, when I sit down I find I'd just be talking about some of the most mundane daily tasks. How do I reconcile these "boring" tasks with how I really feel? I feel enlightened. I feel uplifted. I feel giggly and giddy. Special. Loved. Important. I feel organized and intelligent. I feel funny and witty.

I don't use words as much as I once did. At one point, I was reading books upon books each term and writing page after page for term papers to get my history degree. And you can all be sure that this girl overachieved and likely read much more than necessary just because... well because I could. I loved it. It didn't feel like work most of the time. The elevated level of thought and argument. The discourse and scholarship. These things defined 5 years of my life. Showing how intelligent I could be to seek validation. I felt vindicated after graduation. I proved myself.  Oh how different the times are.

I am not seeking validation now. My validation comes in the form of a small human who thrives if i treat her well and take care of her. I'm not looking outward. I look inward. I trust my gut. I feel my feelings. I appreciate my motherhood intuition. I don't have deadlines. I have milestones. I don't work for projects. I scramble and obey and tend to others and their needs. I am a servant.

Too often ego gets in the way. I felt conditioned for a long time to dislike the act of serving someone. You are independent, free thinking. You can take care of yourself. I believed servitude implied weakness, lack of constitution. Boy I was wrong.

It's not just being a wife that has conditioned me to lose my ego.  Motherhood. Daughterhood. Sisterhood. To give. To give without expectation of receiving.   It is a gift in itself. To love providing. To love my life.

Now... it isn't all lovely martyrdom of motherhood, the love to love bs.  It is grueling work. It stinks literally. It is messy. It is unpredictable. It is annoying. It is agitating. It is mind-numbing. It is grating. It is loud. Painful. Sleepless. Lonely. Stressful. Worrisome. It is hard. Tough stuff.

For instance, Grace is constipated from her new adventures with sweet potatoes, rice cereal, avocado, banana, and apple sauce. Who in the world wants to hear about that?! Well, that's what's on my mind and in the forefront of this week for me as Momma Bear. Calling the pediatrician. Talking to the other mommies in my life about it. Getting her solids that get stuff moving better. Juice diluted with water. Oatmeal cereal instead of rice cereal. Her poor little cries when she pooped this morning broke my heart. But I know how traumatic it is for her.  Hello?! I had a baby naturally so I have an idea of the butt pain my baby is feeling. My problems used to consist of family or friend drama. Deadlines on papers or irritating co-workers. Now, I let my baby poop into my hand while I hold her so she is in a more comfortable position all while I'm nearly in tears over worry for her. Give her healthy foods and keep her plenty hydrated. I keep her active and happy when I can. I worry that I screwed up and caused all her pain.  I fuss over her.

And I'm happy to do so. My mundane boring life of the same tasks, nap schedules, making baby food is filled with new beautiful moments of Grace crawling, her talking loudly, and her two new teeth! Like the movie Groundhog's Day, every day is the same and yet everyday is new and different.

Huh. Not only does a baby mean that "everything changes." Bedtime, going out, what you eat, yes those things change. But what you care about, how you think, why you do things, how you treat people or situations. What you worry over. I am aching to go check on her right now to make sure she's still breathing.

It feels right in the moment.  It feels natural to kiss Grace's cheeks a million times.  I am deeply satisfied. I breastfeed her and she snuggles in with that warm body, she pets my skin with her gentle hands, and she looks up into my eyes. I exude love as she exudes tenderness, and in moments like this I do have a glimpse of a life without her. I am momentarily filled with dread and sorrow and emptiness at the thought of losing her to an infinite list of irrational fears and some rational ones.  I see her future in her eyes and wish that she too someday looks into the eyes of her child this way.

I don't want her to grow up. I want her to grow up. My life is full of boring tasks. My life is full of amazing moments I hope to immortalize and remember for forever. I am exhausted and I am elated. So odd. So wonderful.

How did she grow up so fast?! I know I haven't written lately because I've been enjoying watching my little one grow and hoping to not miss out on a single moment.