Today is your 8 month birthday. 8 months ago, at 8:33 in the morning, I held you for the first time after 26 hours of labor. That minute was the best 60 seconds of my entire life, and I remember each one. I'll never forget the way you looked when that doctor put you on my stomach. I looked at you, wet, slightly purple, and perfect. Then I said, "It's a baby. It's sticky. Is she still a girl? Thank God, she's still a girl." It was the most shocking, confusing, exciting moment of my life thus far.
I will always see you that way when I look at you, no matter how old you get. It has not been an easy journey so far, but it's been wonderful and rewarding every day. You will always be my 7 pound, sticky baby girl. Today, my 8 month old newborn is growing and thriving. You can stand, you can crawl faster than I can keep up with you, and you can walk with a little help. Every day, you smile and laugh. You touch my face, sometimes poking me in the eye and sticking your fingers up my nose. Daily, you fall down, get into things, and wedge yourself into awkward spaces. You get older every time I blink but you still look like a newborn to me.
I know you're getting older. You're growing, and one day you'll want to grow up completely. I won't try to stop you or hold you back. But no matter how old you get or how much you grow, you'll always be my newborn. I'll always call you Midge, and hold you, and stroke your hair when you're sad. I'll always cry when you do, even if I don't show it. I will never stop you from cuddling with me and stroking my face, even when we're both old and grey. (But you will eventually have to stop sticking your fingers up my nose.)
Today my newborn turns 8 months old, and I can't believe it. I love you, and today I'll hold you a little tighter while I still can.