Nine Months

It is going by so fast.

I love her so much.

She is clapping and waving now.

Her smiles are so big.

She is looking upwards with her arms raised to the sky

Sometimes she looks so high up she falls backwards onto the floor

Then she rolls over and crawls off to the next thing.

She is back to her sing-song voice

and wookiee calls

She still growls and makes raspberries

She still says mamama and bababa

She is building up her repertoire.

She is back into clapping. There was a lapse

for a bit

because we weren’t practicing,

but now she does it all the time.

“If you’re happy and you know it”

makes her smile immediately.

Even more than clapping is waving

She waves hello when she first sees you,

in the middle of an interaction,

or if she is trying to get your attention.

She waves at pictures, at her mobile,

at her noise machine, at the windows.

She usually does not wave bye-bye on command,

but will do it once the person is walking away or is gone completely

(which makes sense—

why wave bye-bye

if they are standing right in front of you?)

It is going by so fast.

I love her so much.

She is getting into more trouble

She loves to try to eat fuzzies off the floor

(and will, if we’re not quick enough

to snatch them from her tiny grasp)

She can reach things that used to be out of reach.

She does not understand what the edge of the bed is,

and will barrel toward it at full crawling speed,

or sit precariously close to it

our hands are ready to catch her at all times.

When she cries

from a hurt or a bump or a scare,

I scoop her up and comfort her until her sobs quiet.

I press my nose against her temple and hush

I kiss her cheek and reassure her feelings

and tell her I’m there

I sway as I walk around the room with her

I fetch her a cold washcloth to hold and suck on

I distract with a change scenery or following a cat.

She has found the triple goddess tattoo on my wrist

and touches it regularly,

lightly brushing her nails against it.

When I rest my cheek on her head now,

there is a thick layer of hair. It looks like a pixie-cut,

with little tufts that sit on the top of her ears

or look like long sideburns if not swept back.

Her eyelashes are longer and thicker than an adult’s

“Disney princess eyes,” said a friend.

It is going by so fast.

I love her so much.

I love the way she sits up in her crib and sleepily practices clapping

before faceplanting back onto the mattress and falling asleep.

When she is sleeping I miss her.

The last three nights she has slept 11 hours in a row.


But I miss her.

I miss going to get her at night and holding her at my breast,

close to me in the dark,

her sleepy weight in my arms.

When I used to say good night to her, I’d say,

“See you in a few hours.”

Now I truly will not see her for another 11 hours,

except on the tiny screen in my hand.

I miss her so much. I love her so much.

I can’t wait to see her in the morning.

She is


the brightest part of my day

It is going by so fast.

I love her so much.