What a difference a year makes
She seems to sleep best when we hold her upright or semi-upright, dozing comfortably when we rock her in the glider but flying awake (and sitting up, and screaming) the second we lay her down flat in her crib. So the past few nights I have ended up giving up around 4 a.m. and taking her into the living room, where I prop myself up on the couch with pillows and let her crash out on my chest. She sleeps until 7:30 or so while I drift in and out of slumber, always aware of the little snorts and snuffles of her breathing, the weight of her sweaty head pressed against my breast.
Those early-morning hours have reminded me so strongly of the early weeks of Bat Girl's life, just one year ago, when I'd get up with her for the first morning feed, and after the boob-bottle business was over, and she'd fallen back asleep, I'd doze on the couch with her curled up on my chest, a blanket wrapped around us both to ward off the February morning chill.
Except that now, instead of a tiny baby whose little butt, nestled in my hand, didn't even come down to my belly button, I have a sprawling toddler in pink fleecy pajamas whose feet stretch down to my mid-thigh, and who, when her eyes flutter open and meet mine, bares her budding teeth in a huge grin and reaches out a finger to touch the tip of my nose, then her own.
And I think, how far we have come.