Six months

We are finally living in our new home. I almost wrote “we are finally moved in to our home.” But moved in seems to indicate that all unpacking has been accomplished. And such indications would be a bold faced lie. So yes, we are finally living in our new home.

Unpacking, though painstaking and arduous, has also been somewhat exciting as we rediscover things hidden away for several months. Some things forgotten, some missed, and some that probably shouldn’t have been packed in the first place.

This past week as I was unpacking the box of books from my nightstand this paper fluttered to the ground.

Seattle Children’s has the excellent procedure of sending you home with a written summary of your discussions with the doctors you saw that day. When you’re receiving overwhelming and emotional news about your child, it is incredibly helpful to have something to go back to to reference when your mind clears but your memory fails. This particular paper was the summary from our visit one month and two days before Arabella’s birth. It was the visit where we received the second lethal diagnosis of the pregnancy.

I remember very clearly walking out to the car, paper clutched in my hand. I remember the exact parking spot. A few tears had spilled out in the office, but as soon as that car door closed, gut-wrenching sobs took over. Uncontrollable, deep seated sobs. And when there were no sobs left, there was the frantic google search…trying to search before we reached the land of no cell service on the mountain passes. Clutching the paper to find the name of the suspected diagnosis. And reading for myself on site after site after site, “lethal, lethal, lethal.” Eventually I set aside the phone, folded the paper in half and tossed it on the dash.

We returned home, where my in-laws were watching Ellie for the day. I told Jeff I didn’t want to see anyone, and quietly slipped in the front door and up the stairs, paper in hand. I set the paper on the nightstand, to eventually be buried between books, crawled into bed and sobbed again.

And then here we are, seven months later. Celebrating six months. Our chubby bundle of grace perched on that same bed that captured my tears.

Half a year.

How has it already been half a year?

How has it only been half a year?

In case you can’t tell, Arabella is thriving.

She’s got rolls on her rolls, and cheeks that beg to be kissed.

She’s now sitting, and rolling from her tummy to her back, and her back to her tummy.

She LOVES standing at the play table, especially if her sister is standing across from her.

She got her first taste of food this week, but despite her obvious interest in everything we eat, she was NOT impressed with baby food.

She decided right when we moved in (likely not a coincidence) that she didn’t really need to sleep much anymore.

Mommy and daddy think otherwise. Yesterday was the first day since moving that she took two really good naps. I foolishly thought we’d turned a corner. Until she got up every. single. hour. last night. If you see me, please excuse the bags under my eyes.

Her favorite person continues to be her sister.

And we continue to be madly, gratefully, head over heels in love.