The internet is a big scary place with lots of images. It's a place where information is just tossed out there, correct or not, and you are left searching, hanging onto to every conflicting detail you find, and if you're like me, yelling at a computer screen that does not speak back.
There's an email address down there on your screen, in the lower righthand corner. Go ahead and ask the questions. I don't bite, and it might make you feel better, or at least, better aware. I'm not an expert, but I did do it, so if nothing else, I can tell you it sucks, and then you survive.
Six months since her surgery quietly passed without me really stopping to think about it, probably because turning one seemed like a much bigger occassion than six months post op.
And that, my friends, is exactly the way it should be.
Sorry, I can't make it rotate. Yes, I gave my kid a lemon. JUDGE AWAY.
School picutres, wherein I died from cute.
Chtristmas Eve outfit, in Florida. Wherein I also died from cute.
Christmas morning, one week before her birthday. Can't even see the scar.