She now has all the hair and a killer smile.

On November 19th, we will take S to Dell early in the morning. I chose her hospital outfit before she was born. I was worried that it would be too big. Because she is so strong and healthy, the doctors felt no need to rush her surgery; the outfit will fit perfectly.

Thank goodness that we have already been through the whole rigmarole. We know where to park. We have been to the post-op recovery room. We are prepared to weigh her diapers and record amounts fed. We will turn over her day gel drops and night ointment over to the nurses. We will bring our own sheets and pillows for the pull out “couch bed.” It’s barely either of those things.

S first met her surgeon when she was a week old. She was a little under 6 pounds and was having trouble feeding. The doctor told us that her surgery would need to be within a couple months. We switched bottles and now she is humongous. Tall and chubby, perfect. When she saw the surgeon again at two and a half months, he was pleased with how well she was doing and told us to expect the surgery to take place within a month of that time. Every day, we nervously waited for the surgery coordinator to call. I obsessively checked my phone. I pestered that poor woman on the regular. She finally was able to tell us that we were looking at late November at the earliest. Wait, WHAT? At first I was annoyed because we had never heard that date. Then I realized that I had learned one of my first special kid lessons. Don’t listen to the surgeon about dates, dude does not know his own schedule. Go straight to the coordinator.

Ultimately, I am so grateful for the last couple of months with her, I can barely think about it without crying. The internet and my friends informed me that babies sort of suck until about three months because that’s when they stop being fetuses outside the womb and start to interact and be normal humans. When we thought S would be having her first surgery at or before three months and another shortly thereafter, D and I assumed we would not get to have that fun, normal baby time and we mourned it. But, postponement of the surgery until November gave us that time back. Instead of watching her sleep off pain and trauma in a hospital crib, we got to see her smile and then giggle. Instead of losing sleep because of vitals checks and the constant beeping of machines, we got to lose sleep over swaddling decisions and nap schedules. Instead of idling away hours stuck in a hospital room, we got to bounce and sing and dance. Instead of her motor development being put on hold, she figured out how to and is now obsessed with rolling from her back to her tummy. We took a road trip to visit our family, we took her to get bagels, we went shopping for clothes. Typical stuff to some; brilliant days for us.

Instead of waiting for our lives to start until after the first year’s worth of surgeries, we got to know S as her own person. She is, physically, absurdly strong. She is social. She likes to look at other babies. She likes to move. She likes for you to make silly, loud noises in her face. She likes to be aggressively rocked and rolled. She’s not quite sure what to do with all the dogs, but she is vaguely intrigued. She gets really mad if you're taking too long with the bottle or with putting her to sleep. She doesn’t hold a grudge, though. She isn’t afraid of anything.

I have some more thoughts that aren't so upbeat that I will probably try to process and write about soon, but for now, I have a hilarious four month old baby who sleeps decently.

Postscript: I am also so grateful for everyone's support and kind words. Hearing from old high school friends has been particularly wonderful. Thank you, everyone.