Hannah

The way she waves her arms clumsily at me whenever I approach her. The way she buries her chubby face into my sleeve when she gets a little sleepy. The way she eagerly reaches out for her pink Minnie Mouse blanket whenever she spots it. The way she sits comfortably on the crook of my arm, her thighs clasped tightly around my torso. Her squishy arms and legs. The sound of her baby voice. The smell of her baby hair.

I am probably very much biased, but I can't get over how CUTE she is. My baby girl. My Hannah.

While I used to gush over Jayden when he was chubby, helpless little babe, I realized now that I was always hoping that he would grow up quicker, so that I could stop the endless breastfeeding sessions (that could last for over an hour), so that he could walk and eat and go potty by himself, etc.

Now all that has come true, but then new challenges with have surfaced. Obviously. It happened gradually, from the time he turned 2.5 years old, and not at four years old, he is one inexhaustible mass of energy and curiosity. The never-ending questions and requests, the sudden outbursts and tantrums, the constant haggling and negotiating.

Sometimes, in the midst of the craziness that I would henceforth call the Jay-storm, Hannah is the only peace and quiet presence I could hold onto. And I have learned to appreciate it so much more. Having to carry her around means she won't run away from me whenever she sees something she fancies. Breastfeeding her means I get to lay or sit down with her in my arms, lulling each other to a state of comfort and warmth, however brief it might be at times.

She will turn one in a month. This time around, I wish my baby could stay just the way she is right now - sweet, cuddly and dependent on me - at least for a while longer.