I love patterns and symmetry, so I found it satisfying when Camilla was born on October 14th, eight months to the day after I'd discovered I was pregnant the previous February. Yesterday she was eight months old, and I found that pleasing too: she'd been out of the womb exactly as long as I knew she was in there.
I wish I could write more coherently about the way that having Camilla has changed me, about the deep goodness of her presence in my life. I think it's honestly beyond my capacities as a writer, though.
During those first eight months, I loved my baby viscerally but unknowingly. I loved her in her role as my child, because she was my child and I her mother. During these second eight months, I have loved her in a much more immediate way: as Camilla Claire, as the person who looks out at me from behind those bright, curious eyes of hers. And during the last few of these eight months, loving her has become even better because she wakes up every morning so happy to see me, because she clings to me in the presence of strangers, because she knows me and loves me too.