Today, my daughter is 6 months old.
Where did the time go? And why is it passing so quickly?
I wish it would slow down. I look at my boys, and I am painfully aware that I’ll blink my eyes and that beautiful baby girl you see there, resting her head on her favorite “pillow”, will be growing “pillows” of her own, and talking about boys she likes and going to the mall with her friends and how she wants to dye her hair and pierce her nose.
I remember when I found out that the baby I was carrying inside of me was a little girl. I was scared. I honestly did not believe I could bond with a girl. I feared I wouldn’t connect with her the same way I did with my sons. I didn’t think she’d like me very much, Silly as that sounds. I’d have nightmares of her fussing when I’d hold her and screaming for daddy to rescue her from me.
I was so wrong. She adores me. And I adore her.
There is a powerful love between the two of us and I look forward to watching it grow and develop over the coming years.
Six months have already passed, and the love and pride I feel towards her is so heart-stirring, I can only imagine what the future holds.
(p.s. I resisted the very great urge inside of my soul to turn this post into one big fart joke, because, me and my daughter have become quite the farters in crime. However, I resisted and went with pure cheese instead. You should be proud)