half a year

Is it possible, baby girl, that you have been here for six whole months? Is it possible that you have not been with us forever?
You were born in the middle of summertime. We dressed you in a onesie and not much else those first weeks. Half a year later, you're bundled every day in long sleeves, sweaters, legwarmers, booties, and hats. In the middle of summertime you were a little caterpillar, curled up on my shoulder, sleeping the days (and nights) away.

Now you are well out of your newborn cocoon, speeding through the world on your hands and knees, with a smile to light up the dark winter days.

Your eyes follow your brothers as they race in circles around you. Milo picks you up and carries you around, singing and making silly faces to make you laugh. Liam holds your hand or your foot when you cry, tells you it's gonna be ok.

You are a social butterfly baby. You look around with those big disney eyes of yours, and you're learning something new every minute. You laugh easily and smile at everyone. Lately you have been occasionally possessed by a tiger - growling low in your throat and cracking yourself up about it. Your tiny fingers grab at everything that passes by.

You are our sweet girl, Lucy May. You still like to curl up on our shoulders and suck your thumb. Your favorite way to fall asleep is in the bjorn or the ergo - your head on my chest or your dad's, your thumb in your mouth.

You are hard work too. You wake up numerous times each night, sometimes wanting to nurse, sometimes wanting your dad to walk you around the house, endlessly. You are constantly on the move - no longer trustworthy on your changing table. You're demanding! You bore easily, wanting something new to look at or someone new to hold you.

But I wouldn't trade you in my dear, even though sometimes at 3am I am tempted. I love your energy and your determination. You are my third and last baby and I savor every stage and developmental milestone. You're six months old now - time to start feeding you some real food here pretty soon. Soon you'll be reaching for the floor when you're in my arms, wanting to crawl, and soon run, away from me. I'm in no rush for those days. I'm sure that'll be a theme throughout your childhood, but I'll try to give you your freedom too.

I'm so glad you're here.