Teething

Dearest Kealana,

Your first year of life you grew four teeth.  You never once drooled.  You bite and chewed on everything.  Our books kept in good condition from Shadden are now shabby bits.  From months twelve to fifteen, you grew more eight teeth.  Still, you never drooled.  You maintained your chewing habit even with fewer options due to your increased awareness of things your "not supposed to" bite.

In teething pain you awaken screaming needing Mama.  Shadden gets worried because you never scream.  He asks what is wrong while I try to shush him and you both to sleep with songs and cuddles.  You will only stop crying when I stand and sway and sing you back to sleep.  Poor patient BaBa waits fetching his own baby to rock and cuddle next to me.  I hold you in my arms and it feels so good and painfully wonderful.  You are so big in my arms and I know this sore teething is a little gift for Mama to hold you one last time like a little baby.  An hour rolls by in what I swear was only ten minutes despite Shadden's concerning watch.  I sing our favorites over and over treasuring your head against my face pressed onto my chest remembering how I longed to have a baby just like you and anxiously growled inside to know what it would be like to hold you.  Now, here you are no longer a baby, but my sweet precious growing little girl.

You are our angel.