She has 2 lower and upper teeth now. She can sit up on her own and can stand for a long time with support. However, she refuses to crawl.
She mumbles and seems to respond to conversations.
She loves to pick food with her hands and shove them into her mouth. She can now move her food from one hand to another so she can eat the remaining food that she clasps in her tiny hand.
She has separation anxiety with me whenever I leave or whenever her dad takes her away from me so I could work.
She can’t quite say Daddy or Mommy yet but she mumbles the word dada.
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As I sit here waiting for my OB gynecologist, I think of writing a post on my blog on this experience.
You see, ever since I could remember, I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I played with my baby dolls and pretended I was nursing them when I was little. I could clearly remember chairs knocked down, blankets hanging over them, towels that served as curtains, flowers and leaves chopped as I, my best friend Honey, and my brothers played house or “balay balay” in my native dialect.
Almost three decades later, I find myself in my doctor’s clinic, waiting to find out if I have a chance of living out my childhood dream.
Oops. The nurse told me my OB Gyn got a call because she has a delivery to perform. So she won’t be able to see me today after all. Bummer. I had my vaginal ultrasound today so that they will find out why I’m having irregular and painful menstruation. And ultimately, to find out if I still have a chance of having a baby.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Biological clock is ticking LOUD.