Saturday, September 25, 2010
Eight months ago (give or take a day or two) I sat on a nondescript couch in a nondescript foyer, holding a new born baby in my arms. My baby. I sat, enthralled. And… slightly panicked. As a looked around at people coming and going, I felt that everyone must be looking at us. Everyone must notice this mother and child, and this overwhelming, emotional, and memorable moment. Surely they could see the wonder in my eyes? Surely they could sense my fear, anticipation, love?
Dear Pebble, I will never forget those moments sat waiting for your Dad to arrive with our car, to buckle you in and travel the few kilometres, both of us shaking, you sleeping soundly. The moment that we arrived home, one of many moments to be captured, frozen in time, burned in my memory.
EIGHT MONTHS! Like every month before it, this time has passed much too quickly. You’re crawling, chatting, pulling yourself up on furniture STANDING with confidence and delight. It seems that each day brings something new that you have learned or discovered, and we’re enjoying rediscovering the world with you.