For some reason I had it in my head that when G hit 12 months it was just all going to fall into place. It was going to be like a miracle!
He was going to walk. Talk. Be the man of the hour with his party hat on and most importantly he was going to sleep through the night, being a big boy and all… and I had hope!
Yesterday I actually realized that for days and weeks I’ve been chatting with a friend, commiserating about out children wake us up at insane hours to nurse or to just play because they were awake and wanted to see our grumpy faces…
and then it dawns on me. Her child is 16 months old.
Wait. That’s 4 more months beyond my expected miracle. How can this be?!
I’m crushed. I must find a new hope…
