Kyra Lena is nine months old today.  She can walk when her Papa holds her hands.  She dances to acoustic jams and classic jazz.  She calls out "Mama" when I've been away too long.  She learns from the beat of a drum set to Shel Silverstein's poems.  She laughs when I tell her my dreams.  At bedtime, she pulls her blanket over her head and, with a coo, surrenders to the night.

Nine months ago, I relished the warm water soaking into my skin in a shower stall at the hospital.  My husband washed m...