Month Twenty-one

Month Twenty-one

These posts are getting harder and harder to write, and it’s not just because I’m getting lazier with each passing month. It’s because Mary Virginia as grows, she’s becoming more singular and harder to articulate. There are two things on my mind as I finally sit down to write this update, almost two weeks after she turned

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Month Nineteen

Every night before I go to bed, I make sure my slippers, robe, and fleece pants are right by my bed. Last week I realized, this is the milestone I can’t wait for. I’m can’t wait for the night I go to sleep without first preparing to spend a significant part of the night awake. When Mary Virginia wakes up

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Month seventeen

This has been a tough month. That’s why this update is more than two weeks late. I just considered skipping another month. But, last night, I decided to write it — bursting with whining and complaining — so that next month I can just bypass all that and tell you about the wonderful things my

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Month sixteen

Month sixteen

Mary Virginia is sixteen months old. If you’re a careful reader you might have noticed that I didn’t write a fifteen-month update. I’ve been late with updates before, but I’ve never completely skipped one. I’ve justified it, though. After all, we’ve been busy, I spent most of last month recovering from summer travel. Most importantly, Mary Virginia is my

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Month Eleven

Month Eleven

Sometimes, to help me write these monthly posts, I make notes throughout the month. Babies change so much from day to day that it’s easy to forget things. So I make notes: Mary Virginia climbed up on the couch all by herself, Mary Virginia’s favorite food is black beans, Mary Virginia squeals when she doesn’t

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Month ten

Month ten

If you search for the word “sick” on this blog, here are a few of the results: Mary Virginia’s nine month update Mary Virginia’s eight month update Mary Virginia’s seven month update Mary Virginia’s six month update Enough already. I’m not going to talk about sickness or having fevers, even though that’s probably the thing

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Month nine

Mary Virginia is 9 months old. Actually, she’s 9 months, one week and four days old. If you’re wondering why this post is so late, it’s because the east coast of the United States of America celebrated daylight savings time right after she turned nine months. That means we lost an hour, which means the

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Month Seven

Month Seven

Don’t take this the wrong way, Month Seven, but you were not our favorite. You were supposed to be festive and fun, but you were rude, vindictive and selfish. Sure, there were bright spots. There were Christmas dresses and family sleepovers and eight loaves of cinnamon bread; but it was all enjoyed through the grey

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Month Five

Month Five

I feel like we’re standing on the edge of a cliff. Mary Virginia is five months old. Next month we’ll start solids, she’ll sit up, soon enough she’ll be crawling and then she’ll move out and start screening my calls. Last month I thought we’d reached the cute, cuddly, roly-poly baby stage, but this month

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Month Four

Month Four

We’ve seen some big changes this month. For starters, my hair started falling out. It’s happening a lot earlier than it did last time. Meanwhile, Mary Virginia continues to get even sweeter and more delightful every day. Yesterday I had to take David to the doctor, and Tom stayed home with Mary Virginia. I called to

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Month Three

Month Three

Mary Virginia graduated. She’s three months old. That means she’s no longer a newborn; she’s officially a baby. When David was an infant I’d heard so much about the changes babies go through at three months that I was disappointed when he finally got there. The problem was that I set my expectations too high. I

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Month Two

Month Two

If you happen to ask me how Mary Virginia is doing, I’ll most certainly answer by telling you how she slept the night before. And the answer will be either “horrible” or “amazing” because with a newborn, there is no in between when it comes to sleep. With a newborn, you either wake up celebrating

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Month One

Month One

The first month is a blur of sleep deprivation and wonder at bright eyes and itty bitty everything. This baby girl? She’s so beautiful. Mary Virginia has spent her first month finding her thumb and holding her head up remarkably high for her age. She performs both skills as well as most two-month olds, so

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Fifteen months

David just turned fifteen months old and, I don’t know, this one might not make it into the baby book. This month we’ve coined the nickname Grumpelstiltskin because it’s cuter than any other expletive that comes to mind when he’s scratching his eyes out because we’re changing his diaper. I’m blaming all this moodiness on

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Eleven months

Every month after I write an update I’m haunted for days by things I wish I’d included. Last month I forgot to mention that his favorite place to be tickled is his thighs and that at bedtime, instead of hugging me and leaning into my chest as I sing a lullaby, he now hurls his

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Nine months

Since sharing all his business on the Internet has already bought David, at the worst, years of therapy and, at the very best, lots and lots of eye rolling, I’m just going to go ahead and throw caution to the wind here. Internet, I give you David’s most noticeable development this past month: We’ve introduced

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Six months

Six months

This month almost killed me. I know I’ve said that before, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. This time I’m beginning to realize that when you decide to have a child, you’re signing up for thanking Jesus every night that you made it through one more day. I’ve stopped waiting for

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Three months

We did it. We survived the fourth trimester. Our baby is three months old. Oh, David, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been waiting for this milestone. Anticipating. Dreaming. Imagining. There’s lots of hype about having a three-month old. First I read my sister’s take on three months. Then I stumbled across rumors on the Internet

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One month

One month

What a difference a month makes. Four weeks ago today I was very grumpy, very pregnant, and relatively certain my pregnancy was a permanent condition (which I think every woman starts wondering somewhere around 39 weeks). (grumpy? yes.) I was particularly irritable toward people who suggested I eat at a certain restaurant, see a certain

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