He is now rolling, sitting unassisted for short periods, and last night he chowed down THREE helpings of oatmeal, for his first ever real try of solid foods. This should surprise no one. He's such a rock star.
He's come so far, and I'm so proud of him. I love him more every day and it scares me to think of how much I will love him when I'm old and he's grown up.
I was talking to my mom the other day about Dash's beginnings and his birthday, and admitting that his birthday was not one of the happiest days of my life. Nor was his coming-home-from-the-hospital day.
Want to see one of the happiest single moments of my life though?
Later in the day when we went back to the hospital, the nurse said I could finally hold him. They left me like this for probably two hours. Peter left, and I just sat there, held my baby, and sobbed with all the emotion in that moment. I'm not a crier, but I was just so overcome with joy, gratitude, exhaustion, sadness and bewilderment of being in that situation. I wish the picture was clearer and more focused, but it's still perfect the way it is.
But mostly, it was pure joy. This is me falling in love with my baby.
It wouldn't be long until he was released from the hospital, and what seems like two days later, he's six months old. He's so happy and healthy and content, and he fits so perfectly into our family.