BLAH BLAH BLOGGING

It is nigh unto impossible to blog whilst being the parent of my tiny girl. She will not just lay on the floor next to me. Nor while she languish pleasantly in my lap while I type. Nor will she sleep well enough at night that I am rested enough after she goes to bed to do much of anything. I have made a renewed effort just to be cooking and cleaning once again in my life, and that's about all a person can do sometimes. So lots has happened since my last post.

Dave and I decided two weeks ago that last Friday would be the day we would ship Pixie off to my mom in California. Before Friday came though she bit the baby again. So badly that Annalise had eight bleeding puncture wounds in her face and had to be rushed to the emergency room. There is no way to describe how I felt. As I held my bloody screaming baby I didn't know how I could handle it. I felt panicky for the baby but also for myself, like I could not physically continue to exist given that this was our reality. I had wild thoughts. Should I lay down and cease to exist? No, that was impossible. Should I kill myself? No, that would not help.

The pain of Annalise's pain was unbearable. The guilt was unbearable.

By the grace of God she was not in pain anymore by the time we got to the ER just a few minutes later. She stopped crying while we were in the car, and as she watched me while I sobbed she laughed since she didn't understand and thought I was laughing. She smiled at people all around the waiting room while we waited. Luckily she didn't get any stitches and her doctor was hopeful that there won't be any scars. Dave took Monday off of work and flew Pixie to LA.

It made the trauma of her birth pale in comparison. And the birth was extremely traumatic for me. But for the first time I understood what it meant to wish pain on yourself if it meant you could spare another. I realized I don't care what happens to me, as long as Annalise is okay. Nothing could ever happen to me that would matter- the only thing that matters is her. It is an identity-shift, a life-shift, that I wasn't expecting. The love for this child is truly transforming.

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Dave and I gave talks at church last Sunday. As expected, I was so nervous that I felt sick and light-headed and quivery. A nice lady with nine children of her own offered to hold Annalise while we sat up on the stand. With much trepidation, I allowed it. Annalise was passed about by all her adoring daughters for a good 20 minutes with great cheer. I gave my talk and noticed that Annalise had been taken out, which could only be due to something a little less positve than great cheer. As soon as I was done and Dave began his talk, I saw the lady poke her head through the back door and give me a look. In front of several hundred, I sprinted off the stand and out to the lobby where I found my girl in the last stages of a mental breakdown. She'd been crying so hard and long that she was foaming at the mouth and her eyes were rolling around in her head and the poor thing had clearly thought we abandoned her forever. It was a good lesson to me that I just need to say no when I don't think she is ready for something.

Annalise and I joined another Mom's group since she will be graduating from our first one next week. How is my baby old enough to graduate from anything?! But she is almost six months old. We also went to our first Baby Sign Language class, and Annalise will really have to work hard to catch up with me. I think I learned 10 new signs! She is still at zero.

I am currently making her a blanket and attempting to make some headbands since she's quite a baldy. Bald= no barrettes and 90th percentile head= none of the baby headbands fit. So Mommy has to step in and be crafty. There are ribbons and fake flowers and rhinestones strewn about the house in various stages of experimental creation and the whole thing makes Dave grumpy because he thinks flowery headbands make babies look like those pictures of Anne Geddes babies and every time he sees Annalise wearing one he mumbles grouchily that soon I'll be plopping her into some flower pot for photographic exploitation. He couldn't be more wrong! (But only because I don't have a flower pot big enough...)

Speaking of photographs, trust me when I say I know this is too many pictures to be putting in one post. But take comfort in the fact that initially, there were, like, a ton more.

We call this the Squish-Face:

Annalise and her Mini-Me: