Saw a thing on my isp homepage today about a woman who murdered her 10 month old. They think she's mentally ill (ya think?!). The thought of anyone killing a baby makes me feel physically sick. I won't talk about how she did it because that just makes it worse. This poor woman, her poor baby. Poor everybody.
Then read a thing in mamacate's blog (which I would link if I knew how but I'm sort of lazy and pressed for time, but I promise to figure it out soon) saying to read this essay a friend wrote on parenting a child with CP. And as much as I totally appreciate everything she said about how perfect her boy is, and totally agree (and he is a total cutie to boot), that doesn't stop me from feeling huge great gushes of gratitude that Delia is not affected by something like CP. Who knows what the future holds for her, anything can happen, but she was born in a great hurry and appeared into the world physically perfect and with no problems aside from one tear duct that was a little cloggy for a while. Which resolved itself within a couple of months. Oh, and a real dislike for sleep, which we still argue over but generally speaking have under control. Sort of.
I know that if she did have some issue, some challenge, some disability or other-ness or whatever a good way of putting it is, I would appreciate her for just exactly who she is in all ways just as I do now. But I can't help but be glad that she doesn't have to face bigger challenges than most people do, for now.
That being said, I must give an update: she had her six month appt on Friday. She is healthy as a horse. Fifteen pounds one ounce, 27 inches long: that is, 90th percentile for height, but 25th for weight! She's a total stringbean. She has a new tooth coming in -- upper left front tooth -- to add to her lower ones which came in at 3 1/2 months. She sits unassisted -- that is, if you sit her up she stays that way for a while -- but does not crawl as of yet. She "motates."
And she sleeps through the night to about 4am, give or take, then nurses and goes back to bed until between 6 and 7am.
And I am filled with gratitude.
One last thing and then I head up to bed: Why do we clean up our houses and yards the best they have ever looked when we go to sell them?! It has never looked this good in all the time we lived here! Why are we moving again?!