Every month I think the same thing. But I really can't believe that it has been 6 months since my little booger has been born! He gets more and more handsome each month that passes by. This month has been epic - eating sold foods and learning to sit up unassisted top the milestone chart. I feel like his motor skills are really good. His hand motions seem quite developed and he's nearly got the pincer grasp now. He rolls over from belly to back very consistently now. Back to belly not so much, but he has done it once or twice and will do it if you roll him to his side first. He's started paying great attention to small details like buttons on shirts or rings on fingers. He screams, growls, and babbles with lots of "ah" sounds - mama, baba, nana. Still holding out for dada.
Laying in bed last night, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it used to feel like to lay in bed. Feeling little taps in my belly that turned into bigger taps that turned into punches and violent rolls. I tried to remember the enormous difficulty it took to roll from one side to the other. How desperately I wanted to sleep on my back. How soothing it felt to rub my belly and know that I wasn't alone. It was really hard to remember how it felt. It was even harder to remember a time before that, when Colton was still a little blueberry sized embryo, when he was barely a poppy seed, before I even knew he existed, while he was still just a dream for the future. It was nearly impossible to close my eyes and go back to that time. Life before him feels like ages ago.
Each night now I listen to his soft breathing turned to loud snoring turned to silence and back again while he sleeps next to me in his Rock and Play, the only bed he's ever known. We are going to have a heck of a time when we FINALLY move him to his crib. It will happen someday soon. Part of me is ready. Part of me doesn't want him to leave my side.
When his breathing tapers off to silence I know he's entering another deep sleep cycle and I breathe a sigh of relief. I try to allow myself to drift off, and to put out of my mind that he might be awake in an hour, or two hours, or five hours, there's no method to his madness.