I wonder for how long I can write these posts? 50 Little Weeks? 100?
I don't want to bore you with details of her every move. But I like sharing how she grows. The way her little face has changed, the growing curiosity that lights up those eyes, the determined set of her sweet little mouth as she reaches to grasp something and (invariably) chew on it.
A million things will happen in the course of a day with this little girl. So when others worry about oversharing about their children, I know that you see but a glimpse of my little girl, of who she is and how she grows. The real magic is reserved for those who get to be in the same room as her, hear the laugh that comes from way down in her belly, unless she is snorting in which case it's in her darling little nose!
I just sprinkle a little of her fairy dust here because I figure you have been on the journey with me and so maybe she is in your heart just a little bit, too.
While I lay in bed sick on Saturday, I could hear Bren changing her in the next room. I lay still, listening intently, amazed at the way she was communicating with her daddy. The little breath, the soft coos, much of it I think even he was unaware of which tends to be the way when you are engrossed in a task. But I let those tiny baby sounds embed themselves somewhere in my soul, wanting never to forget what is precious and fleeting.
And I listened to him talking softly to his daughter. He has been a gentle father from the beginning but there is something especially tender about the way he speaks to Harlow.
I suspect this is not the last time I will be moved by the interaction between my fella and our daughter. Daddy and his little girl.
In other news, my stepsister just had a little baby girl. I am thrilled for her and delighted to have a new home for some of Baby Lo's most teeny, tiny clothes.
CLICK. DO IT FOR THE BABY.