9 Months

Dear Ivy,
You are nine months old. You have now been outside of me for as long as you were inside of me. It feels like much longer. I can remember your birthday clearly, but most things that came before then are fuzzy.
In nine months, you have learned so much. You babble and coo, you crawl, pull up, and walk with help. You go to sleep with a big smile on your face, and you eat all by yourself... most of the time. You still love to nurse and cuddle, luckily for me. I can make it a few hours without you, but that's it. I can't stand it for any longer than that. I rush home, scoop you up, and soak in your love the second I'm able.
You have had your own sweet personality from day 1. You love to be loved, you are observant, at times comical, and you thrive when you are able to express yourself from somewhere safe, like my arms.
When I hold you, you hold me back- gripping on with your hands and legs and even your toes if you are bare-footed (which is most of the time). You even give huge open mouth kisses, although now that you have teeth, most people other than me think you are attacking and biting (but I know it's just kisses!). Slobbery, painful, adorable kisses.
I've started having to say "no" to you, not that it does any good. You are so mobile, you are getting into everything. I say no, and we both know I don't mean it, and it isn't long before you are giggling and I'm giggling...
Finally, you and Eliot are starting to like each other... most of the time. No one can make you laugh as easily as he can. A little bit of silliness from Eliot makes up for all the pushing and poking he also puts you through. It's one of my favorite things to watch- you two making funny faces at each other and laughing.
I miss the time when you were tiny and new and I could curl up next to you on the bed and we'd both fall asleep. This morning, when I set you on our bed, you immediately fell off, face first. (This was your first fall from a bed- Eliot had fallen four times from a bed at this point in his life, so I think it's safe to say your dad and I are improving as parents).
But, just like with your brother, every day I think to myself, "No, today she is more fun than yseterday." Every day is a joy.
Mothering a daughter is a special thing. It makes me want to be a better woman. Not a better person, but a better woman. I want to fight for your right to equality in all fields, and I want to preserve your right to stay home with your own future children, if you choose to. I want to teach you that equality is not sameness, and to embrace your femininity. And teach you that it's ok to be strong too. And how, I hope I figure out soon, do I teach such a beautiful child that beauty is only skin deep, and of little importance compared to love and intelligence and morality? It's an easy thing to teach an ugly child, I'm sure, but when I look at you, I see an angel's face, and I don't know if I'm able, or if it's even right, to teach you to ignore your own beauty. We're going to have to learn a lot together.
I'm so glad to be your mom. I love you!