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separate.

admiral john and his ducky flotilla

a brief note on perspective: after feeling so yukky yesterday morning, i had a conversation with an amazing friend of mine. i haven't cleared with her whether i can mention her here, so we shall call her "n." "n" is seven months pregnant with her second child, a baby girl we'll call "r". unfortunately, "r" has spina bifida. and recently, "n" and her family have discovered several other complications, including a chromosonal abnormality that does not bode well for baby "r". the chances of baby "r" even coming home from the hospital are not good.

but "n" is amazing. yes, she and her family are praying for a miracle - how can you not? but she has also begun the process of making peace with this overwhelming situation. she is positive, and beautiful, and strong. she admits to crying late at night as though that were a weakness. she and her husband and their son are just taking it a day at a time, and will love baby "r" forever no matter what, and will enjoy whatever time they can have with her in this life.

and you know what else "n" is? smiling. always smiling. always hugging and lifting other people up. she's amazing, and she changed my day yesterday. she and her little angel baby "r".

***

i have heard that many babies around 9-10 months old go through some separation anxiety. they cling to their mommies, and cry when mommy leaves. so far, we've been blessed that john hasn't exhibited any of this - he's happily gone to whomever i might hand him to, and not batted an eyelash if i wasn't there.

but ... either this morning was just a clingy morning (a possibility) or the cry-when-mommy-leaves-me-at-school phase has begun. at home, i couldn't put him down for more than two or three minutes without him fussing to be picked up (with arms raised in the air - i wouldn't be surprised if his next word after mama and dada is up!). we got ready and headed to school, though. and i got a big ol' grin when i opened the door to get his carseat out when we arrived at school.

when i put him down, though, he wasn't having it. i dumped a bin of toys in his lap - usually a surefire solution. nope, still crying. paci in the mouth? still crying. teacher picked him up? a little less crying ... but still crying. i had to kiss him and walk out while he was still a bit in tears.

i'm not alone in this. i know. every mama goes through this at some point. but it's *so* hard not to run to him to pick him up and kiss him, when i know all he wants is to be in my arms! it's like the sleep training all over again.

but ... maybe it was just a bad day. maybe tomorrow he won't mind, and he'll dive into that pile of toys and play with his baby buddies and go back to not even noticing when i leave.

hey, a mom can dream.

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