I've missed this place. The one where I would come to vent, cry as I type, and think about nothing but the little boy who is missing. Grace is 6 months old next week. As cliche as it is, I honestly have no idea where the time has gone. Our days are filled with the mundane (and I couldn't be happier about that) everyday tasks, and long moments of breathing her in. My mind still goes back to the point where I stood two years ago- blissfully pregnant and unaware that our little boy was not to be for long. I hate that.
|Mommy's Little Pumpkin.. Heading to my parent's house for Thanksgiving.|
|Her daddy likes to mimic her faces.|
As fall (my favourite season) is settling in, and the cooler nights are now our reality, I sort through our boxes and find the Old Navy bear suit I had planned to outfit him in rather than a winter coat. How much I wish he had outgrown these suits, and they had been folded and put away for his siblings. Instead the tags remain on these (there are two- 0-3, and 3-6 months) with the knowledge Grace can't wear them either as they were bought for a winter baby.
|Love these two (+ one)|
|Trying on her headband|
I love being a mother to a living baby- it is everything and more than I expected and had hoped it would be. So far (knock on wood), I'm very rarely irritated with anything Grace does- whether that means pooping through a brand new outfit, or throwing up down my cleavage (she does it so often I'm not even surprised anymore...), whether it's her screaming for me only seconds after putting her down for the first time in hours, or when she awakes in her sleep crying because of what I can only assume is a bad dream. I love this baby so much it makes my heart swell. I know people say that all the time, but I mean it in a way I'm not quite sure I could have believed before experiencing it for myself.
|This picture cracks me up. |
She just wanted her momma to hold her.