Today we’re throwing it back. We’re throwing it allllllll the way back to December 1992 when Hannah was 3 months old.
I cannot even stand the cuteness. And yes, she was a roly poly little thing. Or, as my pediatrician used to tell me, she was clearly thriving. In all seriousness, she was 8lb 5 oz when she was born in September and by December of that year she was up to a hefty 14lbs. That little velour jumpsuit is loose – and so cute! Hannah was the best dressed Christmas baby ever! – but that’s mostly my little nugget filling it up with her chubbiness.
I had an Emmaljunga pram and we went everywhere with that thing. It was heavy and a pain in the ass to haul in and out of the car but Hannah loved it because she could stretch out and be comfortable, nap when she felt like it, and gaze adoringly at her mama. Or, as my mom used to say, be the princess that she was clearly meant to be.
I look at these pictures and they bring back some truly happy memories. I remember that by then I was feeling like maybe I had a handle on this mom thing, finally. I was back to work but on a light schedule, she was (mostly) sleeping through the night, I was still able to breastfeed exclusively thanks to a very helpful mom and an understanding library staff, and the joy I felt when I got home from work each day and her eyes lit up at the sight of me – well – I get verklempt even now when I think about it.
I was on the verge of my first Christmas as a mom and I can honestly say that the wonder and magic of the season was profound and new and it has been ever since.