Because I’m me, I was convinced the Scary Mommy post would be the least visited post in the history of their site.  But it seems like quite a few people could relate to it, and I was a bit blown away (and maybe slightly overwhelmed and freaked out) by all the likes, comments, and shares.

I thought I’d give a brief update on Rowan and myself.

In short, he is fantastic.  He is eight months old, six months adjusted – definitely closer to the six month end of things developmentally, but that’s fine.

It took three months to hit true breastfeeding success, but we did it.  A lip and tongue tie revision made a tremendous difference.  But I couldn’t have done it without the help of the amazing lactation consultants at Women’s Birth and Wellness Center.  We’ve added in solids in the last few days, and he has tried carrots, avocado, cucumber, and sweet red pepper.  I’m starting with baby led weaning rather than purees.

He weighs 15 pounds, and while his weight and height are still below the charts for his actual age, his head circumference is 21st percentile!

He sprouted his first two teeth on December 30th.  Five years *to the day* from his sister’s first teeth.  Weird.

He is working on sitting unassisted.  Really, he can do it, he’s just prone to throwing himself sideways for fun.

He rolls from front to back like a boss, but still struggles with back to front.

He “graduated” from physical therapy, with a caution to watch for directional preference when he turns his head.  The Special Infant Care Clinic said he was doing so well that they didn’t need to see him back until he is one year adjusted, at which point they’ll do their whole battery of developmental screenings.  His eye exam was clear, too.

He is so happy.  Except when he’s not.  He grins constantly.  We had a stomach virus run through our house a couple of weeks ago and he would grin, projectile vomit, and grin again.  If he could have smiled *while* puking, I think he would have.

He still sleeps like shit.  Actually, that’s not true.  He sleeps fine as long as my nipple is in his mouth.  Maybe I’m the one with the problem.

And me?  Still muddling along.  The whole experience still seems like something I watched from afar.  No more panic attacks, and nightmares are few and far between.  In some ways I’ve become uncomfortably numb to it, maybe a little disconnected from it.  Things that used to make me cry just… don’t anymore.

I’m exhausted – but more than that, weary.  One thing nobody mentions about having a preemie is that you are stuck in the longest newborn stage ever.  You’ve already been a parent to this child for however many weeks or months before you even get to the point where he should be born.  Things take longer.  There are more appointments.  More worry.  Time feels distorted.

But here we are.  All of your experiences remind me how lucky we really were.  So many of you had babies at the micropreemie stage, and a few of you didn’t get to bring them home.  And that hurts me for you, and reminds me that while Rowan’s start may have been the hardest time of my life, there is really so much to be grateful for.

It still sucked, though.