It's weird. I can't believe Molly's already 16 weeks old, but I feel like I've been her mother for ages and ages. It amazes me how different I feel compared to before the pregnancy. We went to an art reception at my old school last week, and seeing my old friends was so strange. I felt like I was seeing them after being on another planet for the past year. They acted like I was still me, but I'm not. I'm not mourning for my younger flightier less responsible self. I'm completely in love with motherhood and the mellowing, calming effect I feel in my heart. I wouldn't trade diapers and night nursings for all the wine and smooth belly skin in the world.
The world of Molly at four lunar months is this: playing with her toes; trying desperately to roll onto her tummy and then, having achieved her goal, wailing like a banshee until Mama rescues her from being mired belly down on the floor; slurping her fingers; teething and chewing her fingers, crying in the evenings from the discomfort; eating barely anything one day and then constantly nursing the next, and long long nursing sessions in the evenings. Frequent long stretches of sleep at night- 9 hours last Friday; playing "big girl," being held up to standing on Mom's or Dad's lap and babbling a blue streak at us; learning the splashes can happen in a bath, and slowly discovering her toys. Doing sit-ups on our bellies and sitting up very well when supported. She hates being cradled or held on our shoulders until she's sleepy, then she melts onto us and is a warm, quiet little creature who dazzles us.