One Month

My Sweet Pea,

I find it truly amazing that it has been a whole month since you first wrapped your tiny fingers around my much larger ones. Time has moved so quickly and so slowly at the same time -- your birth feels like yesterday, but I feel like you've been a part of our lives forever.

You have changed so much in the past month, developing both physically and socially. Although you lost a bunch of weight -- 10% of it in fact -- before you left the hospital, you had gained most of it back by the time you had your first appointment with the pediatrician three days later. By day 27, you were 8 lbs, 13 oz -- 10 ounces more than your birth weight and 23 ounces more than at discharge. What seems more unreal is that you've grown two whole inches. At first we thought maybe the measurement was off at birth, but your grandma was there and watching and insists that they really stretched you out and that you really were only 20 inches.

Either way, unlike your dad and I at your age, you are a very long, lean little guy -- you're in the 75th percentile for length but only the 30th for weight. I suspect this may in part be due to your reflux, which results in you spitting up what seems like most of each meal, though your doctor says you're gaining well. Because of the reflux, though, we have resorted to having you sleep in your swing, since it seems to be the only place other than our arms that doesn't make you spit up. Though, like the dog, you seem to have a million beds, each one makes you spit up, which makes you scream and cry. We clean you up, but you spit up again when we lay you back down, and so the cycle begins anew, necessitating the upright sleeping.

Letting you sleep in the swing makes us feel like terrible parents, which is a common feeling around the house these days. I did some online research into it (another common occurrence) and learned that it's a pretty common thing, and we ran it by your doctor and she actually thought it was a good idea. I just hope you grow out of the reflux before you grow out of the swing!

Even though you're only a month old, you already have some skills. You're very good at tummy time -- before we even left the hospital you had figured out how to lift your head up and turn it from side to side. And once we got home, we discovered that if we put something behind your feet for leverage, you could scoot your way down your mat. You also can roll from your back to your side on your own and already seem to know that you could go all the way over if only you could kick your legs hard enough. You are very strong.

Too bad you have no control over your limbs yet! As a result, you spend a lot of time twitching and flailing (most of the rest you spend eating, crying, sleeping, or hiccuping). Your love of flailing makes you hate having your arms constrained. Not only can you break out of a swaddle, you can break out of the Swaddle.Me, which reminds me of a straight-jacket. In the hospital, the only way you could break out was to free yourself from your clothes, a task at which you proved remarkably adept. It was weird to look over and see your naked little arm waving free.

You have also figured out social (ie non-reflexive) smiling, which I adore. It's been hard to capture on film, but you've been doing it since day 15 or 16. And you do it more and more each day.






You've also been on a lot of outings, including the Topsfield Fair, the grocery store, a party, two church potlucks with tons of other kids, the Farmer's Market, and the ice cream shop.

All your grandparents love you very much. Grandma was there with us throughout labor as well as for your birth. Some day I'm sure you'll see the (somewhat scary) pictures she took. Papa, Grandma P, and Uncle T all drove up and waited in the lobby. Papa called almost every day for the first week to see how we were doing, including calling exactly when you turned one week old to wish you a happy birthday. And he sent you a card today with lots of candles on it, each one representing something he likes about you. And your other grandmas have come to see you four times already.

And know who else loves you? Buddy! He always wants to be sure you smell like him, so he gives you tons of kisses.

And guess who loves you most of all? Your daddy and I do. We always have and we always will, even when you pee on us in the middle of a diaper change, spit up on three outfits in a row, or cry all night long.


Always and forever,

Mommy