Today's pediatrician stats: 16lbs. 10oz / 26.5"
She got a flu shot, the first of two (yes, I vaccinate). And soon--too soon--she'll be an entire year old!
I already miss her early babyhood. While waiting in the pediatrician's office, Steve played a few videos for me on his cell phone--videos from before she could roll over and crawl. She laughed and screeched and made long whining noises. Perpetual motion. The tornado of activity that she is now has been in place since her birth. It's like she never stops to take a breath.
The doctor encouraged me to give her more solids during the day. I wish I weren't such a lazy parent, because I breastfeed by default. It feels like such an extra effort to sit her down in a chair and feed her. But here's the dirty little secret: I'm in love with breastfeeding. I hadn't given it much thought until my heart sank when the doctor told me "more solids." It means she's going to be weaned someday. It means she'll be walking away from me. It means I'll lose that intimacy and comfort.
Yes, it's been comforting and pleasant. I've been so blessed with it, and here's the other thing to prove how I'm going to have trouble letting go.
Again, with good reason, the doctor encouraged me to start transitioning Ruthie to the crib all night long. It will help prevent the mild diaper rash I've been fighting, she tells me, since she won't be eating and peeing all through the night with no change. It will be tough in the beginning, but we'll both sleep better overall. She'll be able to spend more time growing at night.
I had already been working slowly towards this transition anyway, and it will be very nice to get a full night's rest for the first time in ten months. But I'll miss that little warm body snuggling next to me. And when she wakes up next to me in the morning, she has the goofiest drunken smile I've ever seen. She doesn't wake up happy in the crib. I can't snuggle next to her. I can't smell that intoxicating hair.
And I feel like a wuss for getting dewy-eyed about the whole thing.
