Seven and a half months ago we got a phone call, threw all our belongings into the car and raced through the night to Akron, Ohio. Seven months ago, I held a knee (and also a hand, and also, somehow, a camera) and Jer cut a cord, and after years and years of hoping and dreaming, we met her. Seven months ago we were the first to hold her, and we spontaneously combusted with love.
And eat she did, eat and eat and eat…until finally a homecoming. And here we are twenty pounds and ten inches later, after seven months of dancing and rocking, singing and soothing, Goodnight Moon and Itsy Bitsy Spider, kisses and kisses and cuddles and more kisses, baptisms in fountains of spitup and poop, drool and pee, forgetting the meaning of me-time (but not caring), mind-numbing fatigue, first smiles and first coos and first rolls, Pattycake and samba dancing to bad music, laughter and laughter and more laughter.
And a week ago Friday, a judge told us what we already knew, that we were officially a family. Take a look at this picture. Doesn’t she look proud (imperious, actually) to be a Tull?