Dear Lucas,
You are one month old, sweet baby boy! You came into this world weighing almost eleven pounds and with a full head of dark hair. Your hair looked for all the world like a faux hawk we had styled for you, but it was all you, sweetpea. You already have your own style—and such a sweet smile. They say babies don’t smile until they are a few months old, but you do! Your baby smiles come when you are sleepy and full and drifting off to sleep. And you make me smile, too.
I think the universe was sending a message with your birth, dear Lucas. In the week or so before you were born, we had an earthquake and a hurricane! The earthquake was a first for this part of Virginia and Hurricane Irene blew through a few days later. Plus, we’d been dealing with the ongoing smoke from wild fires in the Great Dismal Swamp. I think the universe was reminding me that Mother Nature is fierce and powerful and capable of anything—and here you are!
I’ll let you in on a secret, Lucas—your mama is rather old to be having babies. In fact, I honestly didn’t think I would ever have babies. And then your brother Patrick came along and I thought he was the only baby I would have. But the universe had other plans for our family and you arrived, big and healthy and another miracle in my life that I wasn’t expecting.
You can thank Patrick for being born first—he was my practice baby and everything I learned about taking care of babies was through the trial and error of taking care of him alone while your father was deployed. I am much more relaxed and at peace this time around, baby boy, and I think that’s a good thing for all of us! You make it easy, though. You’re only a few weeks old but you are already sleeping in fairly long stretches of three to five hours and you’re a very good eater, too!
You were born at the end of summer and I pushed for your birthday to be September 1 because I wanted you to usher in my favorite season. I love autumn and the promise of cooler weather and the brilliance of fall leaves and the warmth of comfort food. I look forward to the shorter days and longer nights because there is so much to look forward to in the fall, from starting school to Halloween to Thanksgiving. You are my autumn baby, warm and comforting and familiar and full of promise and magic.
My hope for you, dear Lucas, is the same hope that I have for your brother: that you will grow up to be fiercely independent and full of love and hope and imagination. You are still so new in the world that it’s hard to tell what your personality will be, but I have faith that between your father and me (and Patrick, too), we will help you discover who you are and what you love.
You look at me while I’m feeding you and I feel like you’re studying me. “Hello, baby!” I say, over and over, and you just stare at me with your serious expression. I wonder what you see when you look up at me, if you know how much you’re loved and how amazing it is that you’re my child. You’re probably just wondering why this woman looks so tired and sounds so silly. That’s what two babies does to your mama, sweetheart.
Two babies. I still can’t wrap my mind around that reality. Two babies under two! Two baby boys—though Patrick is nearly two years old and truly a toddler to your newborn status. But the days and weeks and months are already slipping by and you will both grow up before I know it. My hope is you will be the best of friends and always have each other’s back—brothers should be like that, I think. Friends and confidants, looking out for each other in all ways.
Patrick has the distinction of being my first baby, the one who changed my life the most profoundly, but you sweet Lucas have the distinction of being my last baby and the one who showed me that I am capable of more love than I ever thought possible. I knew the odds of having you were unlikely and now that you’re here and I see how beautiful and perfect you are, I am convinced I could not want anything more than what I have right now. Two babies, my first and my last. You are the two little miracles in my midlife—filling my world and my heart with so much joy and laughter and possibility.
It’s a great big world out there and I hope one day to show it to you. I don’t want to wish you older—being my last baby, I am determined to savor these early months despite the interrupted sleep and occasional crying jags (yours and mine)—yet I still look forward to all the adventures we are going to enjoy as a family, exploring what the world has to offer each of us. But for now, dear Lucas, your father, Patrick and you are all I need to make my world complete.
Thank you for coming into my world, Lucas. It was a pretty terrific place already, but you have made it bigger and brighter and wilder. Happy one month birthday, baby boy.
Mama loves you.
The Babies!
Showing posts with label birthday letter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday letter. Show all posts
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Saturday, September 4, 2010
A Letter to Patrick, Nine Months Old
Dear Patrick,
It’s been three months since I last wrote you a letter. I had intended to write you a letter each month and then missed your 7 month letter because I was crazy busy with my first anthology coming out. Then you turned 8 months old and August slipped away… So here I am, reeling at all of your developments over the past three months. Monkey, you’re growing up!
At six months old, you were just starting to sit up unassisted, didn’t have any teeth yet and were wary of solid foods. Three months later and now you are crawling, pulling yourself up, starting to cruise from one piece of furniture to the next and standing unassisted for several seconds at a time! You have at least four teeth, two top and two bottom, though I think there are at least one or two more that are starting to push through. And solid food! Oh, how you love it. Not only are you eating baby food (and will eat pretty much anything now, including the dreaded peas of three months ago), you also like finger foods—Puffs and Cheerios, bits of cheese, banana and other fruit. I’ve given you bits of whatever food we’re eating, too. So you’ve had chicken salad, spaghetti, broccoli and rice, among other goodies.
After those five months alone (with Ashleigh’s help the last three), we got quite used to having your papa home. And then… he left for Panama for a week, was gone for a field exercise for two more weeks and just returned from another two-week trip to Panama. Thankfully, you’ve become good buddies with your daddy and are happy to see him each time he returns. Hopefully it’ll be a long while before we have to go it alone again, baby! It’s good to have your father home.
Speaking of Ashleigh, she’s been with us for seven months as of next week, baby! I do believe she is your favorite person in the world, even over your dear old mom and dad. Have I mentioned how lucky we are to have her in our lives? And she knits, Monkey. A skill I lack—so hopefully she’ll keep you in knitted hats and other gear this winter!
Your circle of friends has expanded, as well. We’ve had playdates with your friends Sydney (who is 8 weeks younger) and Caitlin (who is 2 and ½ weeks older. Though, in truth, I think you prefer older women like Ashleigh). You even went to your first birthday party, to celebrate Cierra’s fourth birthday. We’ve also had a couple of cookouts and introduced you to a bunch of new people. You seem to enjoy the new faces and all the attention, which is wonderful. I’m kind of dreading the day you are frightened of meeting someone new, but perhaps your good nature will outweigh that particular baby milestone?
The little baby gear has been replaced by the older baby gear. We swapped out your Bumbo seat (which was passed on to Sydney) for a fancy Stokke highchair which lets you sit at the table with us and will grow with you. Which is nice, since you continue to be a big boy. You’ve acquired a new carseat and stroller and a bunch of new toys, as well. But the hardest thing to give up was your beloved, but struggling swing. You’re due for your nine month doctor’s appointment, so I don’t know your current weight, but you are certainly close to 25 pounds now. One day, I just decided to see if you’d nap on the couch instead of needing to be put in the swing. We’d tried off and on for a few weeks to get you to nap in your Pack and Play, but you resisted. On that particular morning, however, you simply fell asleep on the couch and napped for two hours. A week later, the swing was packed away and a week after that you were napping in your Pack and Play! (I hope you potty train this easily, baby!)
You’re now sleeping a solid 12-hours at night, with only the occasional disruption (which I blame on teething). Your napping has decreased, perhaps because you no longer have the swing to lull you or simply because your night sleep is so long, but we’re lucky if we can coax two naps out of you, usually totaling no more than 3 hours. (Some days, and it always seems to be my days alone with you, you might only nap for one hour!) While I’d like your naps to be a bit longer, I can’t complain too much. You are still a happy, smiley, good natured baby who is curious about the world around you. You’re amazing.
You’ve only had one little bout of illness, which may have been a cold but never amounted more than to a bit of hoarseness and grumpiness. It might even have been from your teething, but it came during the 4th of July weekend when you’d been around a lot of people, so I don’t know. In any case, I’m very grateful you’ve been such a healthy baby! Hopefully you inherited your health from your father. I really don’t want you to end up with my asthma and allergies.
Autumn is around the corner and it’s hard to believe we have just three months until we’ll be celebrating your first birthday! I’m not ready for my itty bitty baby to become an independent toddler, but I see signs every day of the big boy you’re going to be. You are nearly fearless—loud sounds don’t frighten you, being pushed way high (by your father) on the park swing only phases you for a moment, splashing about in the bathtub or your new pool is an adventure—and that makes your poor mother worry about the day when you can not only walk and run, but climb! Oh baby, I hope we can keep you from getting too banged up as you make your way through childhood…
It seems like you’re learning something new every week now—sometimes every day! Did I mention you can clap (though you sometimes clap at inappropriate times—like when you’re sad) and you are starting to wave bye-bye? Or that you know how to head butt (thank you, Uncle Nick) and will tilt your head forward to bump foreheads? Or that you will smack the kitchen table with authority to let us know you want more Puffs or Cheerios? Such little things, but you are learning to communicate your moods and needs.
The baby babble has begun in earnest. You started saying, “Ma-ma-ma-ma” about a month ago, though that has now given way to you trying to combine various syllables to form your own words. (And you are very serious about it!) I love your little signals to let me know what you want, but I’m looking forward to those first words, too. In time, baby, we’ll be having some awesome conversations!
Three quarters of a year, Monkey. Those first few months may have been rough because it was just you and me, but these lat few months have flown by in a blur of laughter and sunshine and baby squeals. I’ve taken hundreds of pictures of you, but it’s impossible to capture on film or even in words what an incredible little creature you are. I catch my breath in wonder as I watch you grow and change right in front of me. What an amazing adventure it is, having you in my life.
Happy 9 Month Birthday, Monkey. Mama loves you so much.
It’s been three months since I last wrote you a letter. I had intended to write you a letter each month and then missed your 7 month letter because I was crazy busy with my first anthology coming out. Then you turned 8 months old and August slipped away… So here I am, reeling at all of your developments over the past three months. Monkey, you’re growing up!
At six months old, you were just starting to sit up unassisted, didn’t have any teeth yet and were wary of solid foods. Three months later and now you are crawling, pulling yourself up, starting to cruise from one piece of furniture to the next and standing unassisted for several seconds at a time! You have at least four teeth, two top and two bottom, though I think there are at least one or two more that are starting to push through. And solid food! Oh, how you love it. Not only are you eating baby food (and will eat pretty much anything now, including the dreaded peas of three months ago), you also like finger foods—Puffs and Cheerios, bits of cheese, banana and other fruit. I’ve given you bits of whatever food we’re eating, too. So you’ve had chicken salad, spaghetti, broccoli and rice, among other goodies.
After those five months alone (with Ashleigh’s help the last three), we got quite used to having your papa home. And then… he left for Panama for a week, was gone for a field exercise for two more weeks and just returned from another two-week trip to Panama. Thankfully, you’ve become good buddies with your daddy and are happy to see him each time he returns. Hopefully it’ll be a long while before we have to go it alone again, baby! It’s good to have your father home.
Speaking of Ashleigh, she’s been with us for seven months as of next week, baby! I do believe she is your favorite person in the world, even over your dear old mom and dad. Have I mentioned how lucky we are to have her in our lives? And she knits, Monkey. A skill I lack—so hopefully she’ll keep you in knitted hats and other gear this winter!
Your circle of friends has expanded, as well. We’ve had playdates with your friends Sydney (who is 8 weeks younger) and Caitlin (who is 2 and ½ weeks older. Though, in truth, I think you prefer older women like Ashleigh). You even went to your first birthday party, to celebrate Cierra’s fourth birthday. We’ve also had a couple of cookouts and introduced you to a bunch of new people. You seem to enjoy the new faces and all the attention, which is wonderful. I’m kind of dreading the day you are frightened of meeting someone new, but perhaps your good nature will outweigh that particular baby milestone?
The little baby gear has been replaced by the older baby gear. We swapped out your Bumbo seat (which was passed on to Sydney) for a fancy Stokke highchair which lets you sit at the table with us and will grow with you. Which is nice, since you continue to be a big boy. You’ve acquired a new carseat and stroller and a bunch of new toys, as well. But the hardest thing to give up was your beloved, but struggling swing. You’re due for your nine month doctor’s appointment, so I don’t know your current weight, but you are certainly close to 25 pounds now. One day, I just decided to see if you’d nap on the couch instead of needing to be put in the swing. We’d tried off and on for a few weeks to get you to nap in your Pack and Play, but you resisted. On that particular morning, however, you simply fell asleep on the couch and napped for two hours. A week later, the swing was packed away and a week after that you were napping in your Pack and Play! (I hope you potty train this easily, baby!)
You’re now sleeping a solid 12-hours at night, with only the occasional disruption (which I blame on teething). Your napping has decreased, perhaps because you no longer have the swing to lull you or simply because your night sleep is so long, but we’re lucky if we can coax two naps out of you, usually totaling no more than 3 hours. (Some days, and it always seems to be my days alone with you, you might only nap for one hour!) While I’d like your naps to be a bit longer, I can’t complain too much. You are still a happy, smiley, good natured baby who is curious about the world around you. You’re amazing.
You’ve only had one little bout of illness, which may have been a cold but never amounted more than to a bit of hoarseness and grumpiness. It might even have been from your teething, but it came during the 4th of July weekend when you’d been around a lot of people, so I don’t know. In any case, I’m very grateful you’ve been such a healthy baby! Hopefully you inherited your health from your father. I really don’t want you to end up with my asthma and allergies.
Autumn is around the corner and it’s hard to believe we have just three months until we’ll be celebrating your first birthday! I’m not ready for my itty bitty baby to become an independent toddler, but I see signs every day of the big boy you’re going to be. You are nearly fearless—loud sounds don’t frighten you, being pushed way high (by your father) on the park swing only phases you for a moment, splashing about in the bathtub or your new pool is an adventure—and that makes your poor mother worry about the day when you can not only walk and run, but climb! Oh baby, I hope we can keep you from getting too banged up as you make your way through childhood…
It seems like you’re learning something new every week now—sometimes every day! Did I mention you can clap (though you sometimes clap at inappropriate times—like when you’re sad) and you are starting to wave bye-bye? Or that you know how to head butt (thank you, Uncle Nick) and will tilt your head forward to bump foreheads? Or that you will smack the kitchen table with authority to let us know you want more Puffs or Cheerios? Such little things, but you are learning to communicate your moods and needs.
The baby babble has begun in earnest. You started saying, “Ma-ma-ma-ma” about a month ago, though that has now given way to you trying to combine various syllables to form your own words. (And you are very serious about it!) I love your little signals to let me know what you want, but I’m looking forward to those first words, too. In time, baby, we’ll be having some awesome conversations!
Three quarters of a year, Monkey. Those first few months may have been rough because it was just you and me, but these lat few months have flown by in a blur of laughter and sunshine and baby squeals. I’ve taken hundreds of pictures of you, but it’s impossible to capture on film or even in words what an incredible little creature you are. I catch my breath in wonder as I watch you grow and change right in front of me. What an amazing adventure it is, having you in my life.
Happy 9 Month Birthday, Monkey. Mama loves you so much.
Friday, June 4, 2010
A Letter to Patrick, Six Months Old
Dear Patrick,
You were born six months ago today, changing my life forever. I have come a long way from the woman who had never changed a diaper and didn’t even know how to hold a newborn. And you, sweet monkey, have come a long way from that pink wriggling bundle that only slept, ate and taught me how to change diapers! Half a year is hardly any time at all, but I feel as if you have become a little person, complete with likes and dislikes and an awesome personality, in that short span of time.
You had your six month appointment today, along with the required vaccinations. What an amazing child you are, hardly even flinching until the third and final shot when you voiced your discomfort for all of thirty seconds before returning to your usual good humor. You are weighing in at 20 pounds and 6 ounces and are a little over 27 inches long. Quite a happy, healthy chunk, you are! No teeth yet—the pediatrician said it might be another couple of months for those.
This month has brought many new things to your life—first of all, your father is home from deployment! His homecoming was a wonderful day for us as a family, though I’m afraid the long wait for him to arrive tested the limits of your patience. It was your first—and perhaps last—experience with a Navy homecoming, but you handled it amazingly well. I don’t know who was smiling bigger—you or your father! Now it’s just a matter of the two of you getting to know each other better. It’s going well so far—no doubt because you both share the same mellow temperament in addition to looking so much alike.
I held off on feeding you solid foods until your father got home because I didn’t want him to miss any more of the milestones of this first year. You clearly don’t mind if I hold off even longer—the few solids you’ve tried so far have not impressed you. Rice cereal, bananas, applesauce, sweet potatoes, carrots and peas receive the same initial look of distaste. You seem to be getting used to the idea of eating off the spoon and want to help yourself, with messy results all around. (Truth be told, I’m far messier than you!) I think as you eat each food a few times you’re starting to get used to the taste and hopefully soon we’ll be able to offer you the things you like best. Right now, I think sweet potatoes are your favorite, but you’d still prefer your bottle to anything on a spoon. I imagine all of that will change in just a few months!
You are nearly able to sit up unassisted now. This new view of the world, with just my hand on your back or your hand on my arm for support, gives you the opportunity to grab for the things you want—whether it’s your bottle, your stuffed Tigger or whatever happens to be within reach on the kitchen table. You can roll from your back to your tummy quite easily and are mastering the tummy-to-back roll now. Crawling is on the horizon, but for now you can scoot backwards and spin yourself around while on your tummy. It won’t be long before you’re fully mobile. Heaven help us then.
You are a happy, smiley little guy, able to coax a grin from anyone, even those who aren’t too fond of babies. I think it’s the dark blue eyes and mop of blond hair—and that quirky, shy little half-smile you give strangers that blossoms into an open mouthed toothless grin once they’ve gained your approval. No one is impervious to that combination—certainly not me. (Again, heaven help me when you’re old enough to use your charms to get what you want!) Going for a ride in the truck, visiting new places, meeting new friends, everything sparks your curiosity and amusement. Oh, and you have a particular fondness for dark-haired girls. If they have tattoos, all the better. Oh my!
You’re learning new things almost on a daily basis and I love watching you study everything around you. I had no idea before you were born how entertaining it would be to watch you discover the world. You are just so much fun to be around. It seems I have learned a few things as well in the past six months thanks to my wonderful, good natured teacher. Because of you I’ve learned to slow down, be more patient and forgiving, enjoy the little accomplishments and appreciate the simple moments. Oh, and when all else fails, to smile. Thanks, baby.
Happy half-year birthday, baby. Mama loves you.
You were born six months ago today, changing my life forever. I have come a long way from the woman who had never changed a diaper and didn’t even know how to hold a newborn. And you, sweet monkey, have come a long way from that pink wriggling bundle that only slept, ate and taught me how to change diapers! Half a year is hardly any time at all, but I feel as if you have become a little person, complete with likes and dislikes and an awesome personality, in that short span of time.
You had your six month appointment today, along with the required vaccinations. What an amazing child you are, hardly even flinching until the third and final shot when you voiced your discomfort for all of thirty seconds before returning to your usual good humor. You are weighing in at 20 pounds and 6 ounces and are a little over 27 inches long. Quite a happy, healthy chunk, you are! No teeth yet—the pediatrician said it might be another couple of months for those.
This month has brought many new things to your life—first of all, your father is home from deployment! His homecoming was a wonderful day for us as a family, though I’m afraid the long wait for him to arrive tested the limits of your patience. It was your first—and perhaps last—experience with a Navy homecoming, but you handled it amazingly well. I don’t know who was smiling bigger—you or your father! Now it’s just a matter of the two of you getting to know each other better. It’s going well so far—no doubt because you both share the same mellow temperament in addition to looking so much alike.
I held off on feeding you solid foods until your father got home because I didn’t want him to miss any more of the milestones of this first year. You clearly don’t mind if I hold off even longer—the few solids you’ve tried so far have not impressed you. Rice cereal, bananas, applesauce, sweet potatoes, carrots and peas receive the same initial look of distaste. You seem to be getting used to the idea of eating off the spoon and want to help yourself, with messy results all around. (Truth be told, I’m far messier than you!) I think as you eat each food a few times you’re starting to get used to the taste and hopefully soon we’ll be able to offer you the things you like best. Right now, I think sweet potatoes are your favorite, but you’d still prefer your bottle to anything on a spoon. I imagine all of that will change in just a few months!
You are nearly able to sit up unassisted now. This new view of the world, with just my hand on your back or your hand on my arm for support, gives you the opportunity to grab for the things you want—whether it’s your bottle, your stuffed Tigger or whatever happens to be within reach on the kitchen table. You can roll from your back to your tummy quite easily and are mastering the tummy-to-back roll now. Crawling is on the horizon, but for now you can scoot backwards and spin yourself around while on your tummy. It won’t be long before you’re fully mobile. Heaven help us then.
You are a happy, smiley little guy, able to coax a grin from anyone, even those who aren’t too fond of babies. I think it’s the dark blue eyes and mop of blond hair—and that quirky, shy little half-smile you give strangers that blossoms into an open mouthed toothless grin once they’ve gained your approval. No one is impervious to that combination—certainly not me. (Again, heaven help me when you’re old enough to use your charms to get what you want!) Going for a ride in the truck, visiting new places, meeting new friends, everything sparks your curiosity and amusement. Oh, and you have a particular fondness for dark-haired girls. If they have tattoos, all the better. Oh my!
You’re learning new things almost on a daily basis and I love watching you study everything around you. I had no idea before you were born how entertaining it would be to watch you discover the world. You are just so much fun to be around. It seems I have learned a few things as well in the past six months thanks to my wonderful, good natured teacher. Because of you I’ve learned to slow down, be more patient and forgiving, enjoy the little accomplishments and appreciate the simple moments. Oh, and when all else fails, to smile. Thanks, baby.
Happy half-year birthday, baby. Mama loves you.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
A Letter to Patrick, Five Months Old
Dear Patrick,
Where has the time gone? Here you are at five months old already and your father is just days away from finally being home. He was supposed to be back on May 6, just in time for your mama’s birthday and first Mother’s Day, but now it’s looking like it will be next week. Soon though, baby! And this will hopefully be the last time he’s away from us for an extended period of time. I know that doesn’t mean much to you right now, but trust me—it’s a good thing!
The past month has been the most peaceful since you were born. No major issues at all! You sleep well, you’re hardly ever fussy, you smile all the time (even if you are stingy with your laughs) and you love riding in the truck, meeting new people and seeing the world from an upright position. You are sleeping about 11 hours a night, usually going down around 9 and getting up around 8. Your daytime naps are getting shorter to make up for the longer nights, but I don’t really mind—it gives us more time to play and have playdates.
Speaking of which, you are becoming quite popular with the girls. You have several “girlfriends” of various ages and have gotten to play with three of them just in the past week. Caitlin is two weeks older than you, Sydney is eight weeks younger than you and Cierra is almost four—but she loves baby boys and you certainly took a liking to her! There don’t seem to be any little boys in our circle of friends at the moment, but I’m sure you don’t mind being the only boy for now.
Your babysitter Ashleigh continues to be the favorite woman in your life. I do believe you like her even more than you like me, judging by the way you smile at her whenever she’s in the room. She has been an absolute gift to both of us, monkey. She even adjusted your carseat straps when I couldn’t figure out how to do it. I don’t know what we’d do without Ashleigh! (Hopefully we won’t have to find out any time soon.)
Your big discovery this month has been… your feet! You grab them any chance you get and attempt to get them to your mouth, though your belly gets in the way. Socks are the bane of your existence at the moment and you spend a great deal of your time trying to scrape them off with each foot. Footed pajamas are a constant source of irritation for you as they simply will not come off! I’m sorry, monkey. At least it has warmed up and you can actually go barefoot a bit more now.
This past Saturday, you learned to tug your socks off with your hands. Of course, you only got as far as the one sock before you decided to shove it in your mouth. Oh, monkey. Everything goes in your mouth right now. Your poor Tigger (a gift from Aunt Leslee) spends a great deal of his time soaking wet as you gnaw and suck on his face and limbs. I believe you’re teething and I do hope it won’t be too painful a process for you. I’m not quite ready for you to be growing teeth. You’re still my little baby!
The coming month is going to be filled with all kinds of adventures, baby! You’ll be starting solids soon (I’m waiting on that so your papa can be the first to feed you) and it won’t be long before you’re sitting up on your own. You’ll be needing some new gear to accommodate your developments. Mostly that means you’ll be getting some new toys that will be as much fun for the adults in your life as they are for you!
Well, baby, we did it. That December day we dropped your father off at the airport, I told you it was just you and me kid. Here we are, four and a half months later, and we have survived! Thank you for making the past few months as peaceful as you possibly could on your poor, inexperienced and exhausted mama. I am so very grateful that you are an easy, happy, forgiving baby. You have made me an easier, happier, more forgiving person as a result.
Happy five month birthday, monkey. Mama loves you.
Where has the time gone? Here you are at five months old already and your father is just days away from finally being home. He was supposed to be back on May 6, just in time for your mama’s birthday and first Mother’s Day, but now it’s looking like it will be next week. Soon though, baby! And this will hopefully be the last time he’s away from us for an extended period of time. I know that doesn’t mean much to you right now, but trust me—it’s a good thing!
The past month has been the most peaceful since you were born. No major issues at all! You sleep well, you’re hardly ever fussy, you smile all the time (even if you are stingy with your laughs) and you love riding in the truck, meeting new people and seeing the world from an upright position. You are sleeping about 11 hours a night, usually going down around 9 and getting up around 8. Your daytime naps are getting shorter to make up for the longer nights, but I don’t really mind—it gives us more time to play and have playdates.
Speaking of which, you are becoming quite popular with the girls. You have several “girlfriends” of various ages and have gotten to play with three of them just in the past week. Caitlin is two weeks older than you, Sydney is eight weeks younger than you and Cierra is almost four—but she loves baby boys and you certainly took a liking to her! There don’t seem to be any little boys in our circle of friends at the moment, but I’m sure you don’t mind being the only boy for now.
Your babysitter Ashleigh continues to be the favorite woman in your life. I do believe you like her even more than you like me, judging by the way you smile at her whenever she’s in the room. She has been an absolute gift to both of us, monkey. She even adjusted your carseat straps when I couldn’t figure out how to do it. I don’t know what we’d do without Ashleigh! (Hopefully we won’t have to find out any time soon.)
Your big discovery this month has been… your feet! You grab them any chance you get and attempt to get them to your mouth, though your belly gets in the way. Socks are the bane of your existence at the moment and you spend a great deal of your time trying to scrape them off with each foot. Footed pajamas are a constant source of irritation for you as they simply will not come off! I’m sorry, monkey. At least it has warmed up and you can actually go barefoot a bit more now.
This past Saturday, you learned to tug your socks off with your hands. Of course, you only got as far as the one sock before you decided to shove it in your mouth. Oh, monkey. Everything goes in your mouth right now. Your poor Tigger (a gift from Aunt Leslee) spends a great deal of his time soaking wet as you gnaw and suck on his face and limbs. I believe you’re teething and I do hope it won’t be too painful a process for you. I’m not quite ready for you to be growing teeth. You’re still my little baby!
The coming month is going to be filled with all kinds of adventures, baby! You’ll be starting solids soon (I’m waiting on that so your papa can be the first to feed you) and it won’t be long before you’re sitting up on your own. You’ll be needing some new gear to accommodate your developments. Mostly that means you’ll be getting some new toys that will be as much fun for the adults in your life as they are for you!
Well, baby, we did it. That December day we dropped your father off at the airport, I told you it was just you and me kid. Here we are, four and a half months later, and we have survived! Thank you for making the past few months as peaceful as you possibly could on your poor, inexperienced and exhausted mama. I am so very grateful that you are an easy, happy, forgiving baby. You have made me an easier, happier, more forgiving person as a result.
Happy five month birthday, monkey. Mama loves you.
Monday, April 5, 2010
A Letter to Patrick, Four Months Old
Dear Patrick,
You are four months and one day old today. I didn’t get a chance to write your letter yesterday because your Aunt Sheri was in town for the weekend. She hadn’t seen you since you were 12 days old! It was fun watching you with her, and watching her enjoy you as much as I do. (I often fear I’m a bit biased when it comes to how much fun you are and how easy your are and how beautiful you are. Oh, it’s sad to have become one of “those” mothers!)
Spring has arrived in Virginia and this month has meant more time outside. Sheri and I took you to the Norfolk Botanical Gardens on Saturday. When you weren’t napping, you seemed to enjoy the great big world. The park was certainly bigger than anything you’ve experienced so far! I’m looking forward to many outdoor days when your father gets home. Only five more weeks to go!
You went to the pediatrician on Thursday—your father’s 41st birthday, coincidentally—for your four month checkup and vaccinations. You’re weighing in at a little over 17 pounds now, monkey! Though I honestly expected you to weigh more since you feel soooo heavy to me! You handled the vaccinations like a champ and only cried for about a minute before you were smiling again. Whew! You don’t go back to the pediatrician until you’re six months old, thankfully.
So far this month you have started rolling over front to back and back to front, quite an accomplishment. You don’t do it often, but you’re starting to figure out that the rolling will get you closer to what you want. You’re a clever little monkey and have figured out how to grab onto things to pull yourself from your side to your stomach. Uh oh! The days of leaving you in the middle of the bed unattended will soon be over, I’m afraid.
You’re still sleeping well through the night, which is so wonderful. I was afraid of what they call the “four month sleep regression,” but if such a thing occurred, it only affected your daytime naps. You’re still napping pretty well, but your awake periods have stretched to two hours now. Your naps are all over the place—45 minutes to over 3 hours—but you total between 6 and 7 hours of naps a day.
You love tummy time and hold your head high, a steady stream of drool dripping from your bottom lip. Your usual smiley humor disappears when you’re in the tummy zone, though. Apparently, this is a very serious activity for you that requires intense concentration and maximum drool output. (The drool is all-powerful, I’ve discovered.) You kick your legs furiously, as if you can’t wait to crawl. Slow down, baby! There will be time enough for you to crawl and walk and run….
My favorite moment this month was last Wednesday night. We were talking to your father on the computer and I was making funny sounds to get you to smile and laugh. So far, your “laughing” has been brief a-ha sounds, followed by an open-mouthed grin. But then I hit upon a sound that made you laugh and laugh… It was a wonderful moment, not only because it was the first time you’ve every laughed continually like that, but also because it was already April 1 in Dubai. I think that was your birthday present to your father!
This past month marks the one year anniversary of finding out I was pregnant with you. Those early days and weeks (and months, if I’m being honest) were nerve wracking… wondering whether I’d be able to hang onto you and keep you growing inside me. And here we are a year later, with you growing up right in front of me!
The days are going by so fast, baby. Four months! Winter is a memory and spring is well and truly here. Your father will be home soon and you can laugh and laugh for both of us. Never stop laughing, baby. Life is good.
Happy four month birthday! Mama loves you.
You are four months and one day old today. I didn’t get a chance to write your letter yesterday because your Aunt Sheri was in town for the weekend. She hadn’t seen you since you were 12 days old! It was fun watching you with her, and watching her enjoy you as much as I do. (I often fear I’m a bit biased when it comes to how much fun you are and how easy your are and how beautiful you are. Oh, it’s sad to have become one of “those” mothers!)
Spring has arrived in Virginia and this month has meant more time outside. Sheri and I took you to the Norfolk Botanical Gardens on Saturday. When you weren’t napping, you seemed to enjoy the great big world. The park was certainly bigger than anything you’ve experienced so far! I’m looking forward to many outdoor days when your father gets home. Only five more weeks to go!
You went to the pediatrician on Thursday—your father’s 41st birthday, coincidentally—for your four month checkup and vaccinations. You’re weighing in at a little over 17 pounds now, monkey! Though I honestly expected you to weigh more since you feel soooo heavy to me! You handled the vaccinations like a champ and only cried for about a minute before you were smiling again. Whew! You don’t go back to the pediatrician until you’re six months old, thankfully.
So far this month you have started rolling over front to back and back to front, quite an accomplishment. You don’t do it often, but you’re starting to figure out that the rolling will get you closer to what you want. You’re a clever little monkey and have figured out how to grab onto things to pull yourself from your side to your stomach. Uh oh! The days of leaving you in the middle of the bed unattended will soon be over, I’m afraid.
You’re still sleeping well through the night, which is so wonderful. I was afraid of what they call the “four month sleep regression,” but if such a thing occurred, it only affected your daytime naps. You’re still napping pretty well, but your awake periods have stretched to two hours now. Your naps are all over the place—45 minutes to over 3 hours—but you total between 6 and 7 hours of naps a day.
You love tummy time and hold your head high, a steady stream of drool dripping from your bottom lip. Your usual smiley humor disappears when you’re in the tummy zone, though. Apparently, this is a very serious activity for you that requires intense concentration and maximum drool output. (The drool is all-powerful, I’ve discovered.) You kick your legs furiously, as if you can’t wait to crawl. Slow down, baby! There will be time enough for you to crawl and walk and run….
My favorite moment this month was last Wednesday night. We were talking to your father on the computer and I was making funny sounds to get you to smile and laugh. So far, your “laughing” has been brief a-ha sounds, followed by an open-mouthed grin. But then I hit upon a sound that made you laugh and laugh… It was a wonderful moment, not only because it was the first time you’ve every laughed continually like that, but also because it was already April 1 in Dubai. I think that was your birthday present to your father!
This past month marks the one year anniversary of finding out I was pregnant with you. Those early days and weeks (and months, if I’m being honest) were nerve wracking… wondering whether I’d be able to hang onto you and keep you growing inside me. And here we are a year later, with you growing up right in front of me!
The days are going by so fast, baby. Four months! Winter is a memory and spring is well and truly here. Your father will be home soon and you can laugh and laugh for both of us. Never stop laughing, baby. Life is good.
Happy four month birthday! Mama loves you.
Friday, February 5, 2010
A Letter to Patrick, Two Months Old
Dear Patrick,
You are two months and one day old today, my little monkey! No, I’m not already falling behind on writing your monthly letter, I just wanted to wait until after your two month appointment with the pediatrician. You appointment was this morning and I don’t think either of us was happy to be there. But we both survived your vaccines and you only cried for a little while. Thankfully, you are napping peacefully now.
You’re now in the 90th percentile for weight, length and head circumference. As the doctor said—you couldn’t be more perfectly proportioned. As far as I’m concerned, you couldn’t be more perfect! Of course, I do wish you weighed just a little less. You’re at thirteen and a half pounds now, almost five pounds heavier than you were at birth! My poor back and shoulders protest when I have to haul you and your car seat in and out of your father’s truck. But you’re my big boy and I’m so grateful you’re healthy.
It’s hard to believe it’s been two months (and one day) since you were born. Those early weeks are a bit of a blur of exhaustion, frustration and—when I wasn’t tired or frustrated—moments of quiet joy. It was a roller coaster ride of getting to know you, learning how to take care of you and adjusting to the incredible changes you have brought to my life. After your father left, it was all I could do to take care of you and myself and the pets. I’m happy to say the second month has brought a little less exhaustion, a lot less frustration and more moments of joy.
I’m also getting more sleep at night than I was a month ago because you’re sleeping better. Right now, you sleep four to four and a half hours when I put you down for the night, followed by a two to three hour stretch after a bottle, followed by another hour to hour and a half before you’re up for the day. You nap pretty well during the day, but the naps are getting a little shorter as you are waking up to the world around you and don’t want to miss anything.
You’ve learned a few new things in the past month. First of all, you’re really smiling! It was hard to tell before if it was a smile, a grimace or gas, but now I’m sure of the real smiles. You don’t smile every time you see me, but when you do it melts my heart. I never get tired of those toothless, lopsided grins. So far, you’ve only giggled once while you were awake (and I have to say, giggling in your sleep is a little creepy) and it was while I was putting on your bib. You do enjoy eating! (You take after your mama, I think.) I’m looking forward to hearing your laughter on a regular basis.
You have become more “interactive” in the past few weeks, much to my delight. You coo and babble now, your little fist shoved into your mouth—sometimes both of them at once. Putting your hand in your mouth used to signal your hunger, now you do it just because you can—and it seems to make you so happy. You look at me more often and for longer stretches and, like your smiles, I look forward to the future when you seek me out to watch me instead of looking at me only because I’m right in front of you.
In the past month, I’ve gotten you a swing and an activity play mat, both of which entertain you. I didn’t think you would take to the swing, but after a bit you seemed to enjoy watching everything moving around you. Oh, and it has the added benefit of rocking you to sleep when you’re feeling fussy. You just got the play mat yesterday, but you immediately started wiggling and kicking to the sounds and lights and little dangling toys. You love riding in the truck and looking around (though the motion eventually lulls you to sleep) and I think you’re starting to make the connection between being put in your car seat and going for a ride in the truck.
I feel like you’re growing up too fast right before my eyes, baby. You don’t fit into any of your newborn outfits anymore and it makes me sad. In fact, you are wearing a few 3 to 6 month and 6 month outfits already, though they’re a little big. But despite your growth spurt, you’re still a little baby. You still put your fist in the air—power to the people!— accompanied by the super serious expression you get sometimes, your little mouth turned down at the corners in disapproval. You can’t hold your head up for more than a few seconds yet, but you’re getting better at it ever day (and get soooo frustrated when it wobbles in the opposite direction of where you want to look). You still love to stare at the ceiling fan (I think the fan is as exciting to you as your play mat, actually) and looking at the lamplight or sunlight through the window. I can’t wait for spring so I can take you outside!
As of yesterday, I can finally count on two hands the total number of hours I’ve been away from you—8! I think you’ll be getting a regular babysitter soon, at least part-time. I miss my writing schedule and it’s hard to haul you around on errands. I think I might like to go back to teaching in the fall and even if it’s only online I will still need blocks of time to work. Of course, I don’t know yet how I’m going to leave you with someone else on a regular basis. It’ll be good for both of us and it’ll be harder for me than for you, I’m sure. But I know you don’t really want to go to doctor’s appointments and the grocery store with me, right? (I’ll still take you to Starbucks, of course!)
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but sometime in the past month I fell in love with you, Patrick. It wasn’t love at first sight for me like it was for your father. Is that horrible to admit? By the time I fell in love with you as my baby bump, it was almost time for you to be out in the world. So it’s taken me a little while to get to know you on the outside of my body, but I’m in love with you now, little boy. How could I not be? You are so amazing. We talk to your father everyday on my laptop so he can see you and you can see and hear him—and you do respond to his voice, even if his image is a little blurry on the screen sometimes—and I tell him how you’re doing and how incredible you are. He misses you, but I’m excited for him because I know he’s going to fall in love with you all over again when he gets home.
Two months have flown by and I know that it’ll be December before I know it and you’ll be turning a year old. Don’t grow up too fast, sweet boy. As much as I’m looking forward to all the things you’ll be able to do in the next month, and in six months, and in a year… I want to enjoy what you can do right now and savor these moments with you. The cuddles and the coos and your little hand on mine are all I need right now.
Happy two month birthday, baby. Mama loves you.
You are two months and one day old today, my little monkey! No, I’m not already falling behind on writing your monthly letter, I just wanted to wait until after your two month appointment with the pediatrician. You appointment was this morning and I don’t think either of us was happy to be there. But we both survived your vaccines and you only cried for a little while. Thankfully, you are napping peacefully now.
You’re now in the 90th percentile for weight, length and head circumference. As the doctor said—you couldn’t be more perfectly proportioned. As far as I’m concerned, you couldn’t be more perfect! Of course, I do wish you weighed just a little less. You’re at thirteen and a half pounds now, almost five pounds heavier than you were at birth! My poor back and shoulders protest when I have to haul you and your car seat in and out of your father’s truck. But you’re my big boy and I’m so grateful you’re healthy.
It’s hard to believe it’s been two months (and one day) since you were born. Those early weeks are a bit of a blur of exhaustion, frustration and—when I wasn’t tired or frustrated—moments of quiet joy. It was a roller coaster ride of getting to know you, learning how to take care of you and adjusting to the incredible changes you have brought to my life. After your father left, it was all I could do to take care of you and myself and the pets. I’m happy to say the second month has brought a little less exhaustion, a lot less frustration and more moments of joy.
I’m also getting more sleep at night than I was a month ago because you’re sleeping better. Right now, you sleep four to four and a half hours when I put you down for the night, followed by a two to three hour stretch after a bottle, followed by another hour to hour and a half before you’re up for the day. You nap pretty well during the day, but the naps are getting a little shorter as you are waking up to the world around you and don’t want to miss anything.
You’ve learned a few new things in the past month. First of all, you’re really smiling! It was hard to tell before if it was a smile, a grimace or gas, but now I’m sure of the real smiles. You don’t smile every time you see me, but when you do it melts my heart. I never get tired of those toothless, lopsided grins. So far, you’ve only giggled once while you were awake (and I have to say, giggling in your sleep is a little creepy) and it was while I was putting on your bib. You do enjoy eating! (You take after your mama, I think.) I’m looking forward to hearing your laughter on a regular basis.
You have become more “interactive” in the past few weeks, much to my delight. You coo and babble now, your little fist shoved into your mouth—sometimes both of them at once. Putting your hand in your mouth used to signal your hunger, now you do it just because you can—and it seems to make you so happy. You look at me more often and for longer stretches and, like your smiles, I look forward to the future when you seek me out to watch me instead of looking at me only because I’m right in front of you.
In the past month, I’ve gotten you a swing and an activity play mat, both of which entertain you. I didn’t think you would take to the swing, but after a bit you seemed to enjoy watching everything moving around you. Oh, and it has the added benefit of rocking you to sleep when you’re feeling fussy. You just got the play mat yesterday, but you immediately started wiggling and kicking to the sounds and lights and little dangling toys. You love riding in the truck and looking around (though the motion eventually lulls you to sleep) and I think you’re starting to make the connection between being put in your car seat and going for a ride in the truck.
I feel like you’re growing up too fast right before my eyes, baby. You don’t fit into any of your newborn outfits anymore and it makes me sad. In fact, you are wearing a few 3 to 6 month and 6 month outfits already, though they’re a little big. But despite your growth spurt, you’re still a little baby. You still put your fist in the air—power to the people!— accompanied by the super serious expression you get sometimes, your little mouth turned down at the corners in disapproval. You can’t hold your head up for more than a few seconds yet, but you’re getting better at it ever day (and get soooo frustrated when it wobbles in the opposite direction of where you want to look). You still love to stare at the ceiling fan (I think the fan is as exciting to you as your play mat, actually) and looking at the lamplight or sunlight through the window. I can’t wait for spring so I can take you outside!
As of yesterday, I can finally count on two hands the total number of hours I’ve been away from you—8! I think you’ll be getting a regular babysitter soon, at least part-time. I miss my writing schedule and it’s hard to haul you around on errands. I think I might like to go back to teaching in the fall and even if it’s only online I will still need blocks of time to work. Of course, I don’t know yet how I’m going to leave you with someone else on a regular basis. It’ll be good for both of us and it’ll be harder for me than for you, I’m sure. But I know you don’t really want to go to doctor’s appointments and the grocery store with me, right? (I’ll still take you to Starbucks, of course!)
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but sometime in the past month I fell in love with you, Patrick. It wasn’t love at first sight for me like it was for your father. Is that horrible to admit? By the time I fell in love with you as my baby bump, it was almost time for you to be out in the world. So it’s taken me a little while to get to know you on the outside of my body, but I’m in love with you now, little boy. How could I not be? You are so amazing. We talk to your father everyday on my laptop so he can see you and you can see and hear him—and you do respond to his voice, even if his image is a little blurry on the screen sometimes—and I tell him how you’re doing and how incredible you are. He misses you, but I’m excited for him because I know he’s going to fall in love with you all over again when he gets home.
Two months have flown by and I know that it’ll be December before I know it and you’ll be turning a year old. Don’t grow up too fast, sweet boy. As much as I’m looking forward to all the things you’ll be able to do in the next month, and in six months, and in a year… I want to enjoy what you can do right now and savor these moments with you. The cuddles and the coos and your little hand on mine are all I need right now.
Happy two month birthday, baby. Mama loves you.
Monday, January 4, 2010
A Letter to Patrick, One Month Old
My sweet Patrick,
You’re one month old today, baby. On this very cold January day, you and I are at Starbucks—one of the few places I’ve taken you—and mama even brought her computer for the first time. Of course, I’m writing a letter to you instead of getting any real writing done, but it’s still quite an accomplishment right now for us to get out of the house! We are a team, you and I, until your father gets home from his deployment in Dubai. I’m counting on you to be very forgiving as I make mistakes over the next few months. After all, I never changed a diaper before you came along—and even then you were four days old before I changed the first one! Despite your young age, you probably have figured out I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe that’s what those little smirks are that you give me sometimes—I just thought it was gas!
It’s been amazing watching you grow and change this month. You have outgrown most of your newborn outfits and have developed a little round belly and chunky legs. I’m not worried about your weight the way I was in the days after your birth. You no longer feel like a fragile newborn, though you are still so small and helpless and your head wobbles around if I don’t support it. You still have that adorable “startle” reflex where you throw you arms up in surprise (often while you’re sleeping), though it doesn’t happen as often as before. Thankfully, you sleep pretty soundly through the dog barking and the phone ringing and the television commercials that are so much louder than whatever program I might be attempting to watch in between feedings and laundry.
I’m so very tired, baby. I know that’s the way it’s supposed to be with a newborn and I try not to complain, but how I wish I could sleep more! It was certainly easier before your father left—having two people to take care of you made it seem almost effortless. But it’s been just you and me for the past two weeks and the exhaustion is a bit overwhelming at times. I never take it out on you, though I did have to put you down and walk away for a few minutes one particularly bad night when you were gassy and crying, but I can’t say the same about others. Everyone and everything gets on my nerves right now and I know it’s sleep deprivation and hormones. I’m recovering quite nicely from your birth, but I will be happy when you’re sleeping a bit longer at night and my hormones stop careening around out of control.
You’re too little for toys just yet, but you do love to stare at the ceiling fan. You’re also quite fond of lights—whether it’s sunlight through the window or the Christmas tree lights before your father took the tree down. Even the light from a lamp will mesmerize you for awhile. We bought you a swing before your father left, but you didn’t like it very much so we exchanged it for a simple rocker to put in the living room. You seem to like that well enough, especially when I rock you (it’s manual, so I have to do the work). Perhaps when you’re a little bigger you’ll enjoy the rocking and vibrations and music of an electric swing. It’s okay if you don’t, though. I’ll keep rocking you in the rocker for as long as you like it. Sometimes it soothes me as much as it soothes you.
You love your hands and wave them around like a symphony conductor or a painter wielding a brush on an invisible canvas. Sometimes you thrust your fist in the air while you’re sleeping, your lips pursed defiantly like a little rebel. I wonder what you’re rebelling against in those baby dreams? There are pictures of you with your hands in your mouth just moments after your birth. I love that you are a self-soother, even if it means that you resist being swaddled. I hate that you had to self-soothe in the hospital because I was in recovery and couldn’t hold you. But you’re already showing your inner strength, my sweet boy, and you took care of yourself when I couldn’t. I think your fondness for using your hands is a hint that you will end up with some streak of creativity. I can’t wait to find out what form it takes.
It’s incredible how much you look like your father, from the strands of blond and red in your brown hair (which seems to have a bit of curl to it—perhaps that’s my contribution?) to the dimple in your chin. I have always had a hard time telling who babies look like, but I have thought you looked like your father since I saw your sweet face on my 34 week ultrasound. You certainly act like your father’s son—collapsing into a deep sleep after you eat and maintaining a relatively good natured demeanor even when your newbie mother messes up some crucial aspect of your care. If you grow up with your dad’s personality as well as his looks, I’ll consider myself the luckiest mother in the world.
Recently, you’ve been giggling and smiling in your sleep, giving me a taste of what’s to come. I’m looking forward to that first real smile you give me. It will be a hard won reward, I think! I’m in no hurry for you to grow up though, baby. I know that as much work as it is to take care of you now that it will be even more demanding when you’re mobile! I’m very content to wait for those big milestones until your father comes home and can experience them, too—and give me a break! Your mama is a bit of a free spirit and it’s been a big adjustment having to give up my freedom. You’re worth it, no doubt, but I look forward to leaving you in your father’s capable hands for a few hours—or a few days.
I’m sorry your father isn’t here to experience all these newborn moments. He wants to be, I promise you that. And, with luck, this will be the only time in your childhood that he won’t be home with us. The Navy has given us a good life, but this is not at all the way I wanted it to go, with your dad only here for the first eighteen days of your life. He will be home in June, if not sooner, and everything will seem a bit easier. He’s very good with you and has more patience than I could ever hope to have. That will come in handy when he’s teaching you to swim—and to drive.
Most of the time, you are an easy baby and I’m so grateful for that. You have only had a handful of bad nights in the past month—four, I think, including one night in the hospital. New Year’s Eve was pretty bad. You stayed up longer than you ever have—nearly eight hours!—and I decided that you just wanted to ring in the new year with me. Of course, I could have done without the crying (and on the one night when I actually had people over—such is the way of babies, I suppose) and bottomless hunger. Perhaps it was a growth spurt rather than a need to see the ball drop, hmm? I have no experience with babies, but I hear that some of them cry a lot and, with those few exceptions, you certainly don’t. I’m especially grateful for that, sweet Patrick. I love you dearly, but your inconsolable wails on those bad nights broke my heart. I hope nights like that are few and far between. I’ll try my best to make sure you never have a reason to cry.
I bought a bunch of books when we were expecting you so that I would know how to take care of you. Unfortunately, I’m so tired most of the time I can’t do more than look at them sitting on the bedside table and hope I’m not scarring you for life as I bumble onward. But I do have friends who give me bits of advice here and there, and that helps. And there are some things I just seem to know about taking care of you—like how to hold you when you’re fussy or to start a bottle when you make certain little grunting sounds and start gnawing on your hands. I’m starting to gain confidence that I can take care of you by myself, which means we’ll be getting out of the house more (once the weather warms up—you are only a month old, after all). My strength is coming back and I’m probably gaining some muscle in the process of lifting you and your carseat in and out of your father’s truck! How I wish I could put you in my Miata—I think you’d enjoy riding in a convertible when you’re older. (I’m not-so-secretly hoping you have a bit of your mother’s free spirit in you!)
At some point, you’re going to realize your parents are not like your friends’ parents. In the first place, we’re terribly old. In the second place, not only are we still married, but we’ve been married forever! Hopefully these attributes will count in our favor, even if we did name you after the dog. (But you have two middle names, so you shouldn’t mind if we gave you Henry’s name as one of them. He’s a pretty wonderful dog, after all.) We may not be traditional parents (and I’m most definitely not going to be a traditional mom), but we have big plans to show you the world and make sure you have a wonderful life. I think you will inspire both your father and me to take better care of ourselves so we can keep up with you. What adventures we’re going to have!
There was a full moon on December 31—the second full moon of the month, which makes it a blue moon. I wanted to remember that so I could tell you there was a blue moon in the month you were born. You are the kind of baby that comes along once in a blue moon and I am lucky you are mine. It’s getting late now and it is bitterly cold outside, so I better get you home before you wake up again and wonder why your crazy mother still has you out at Starbucks.
Happy one month birthday, Patrick. Mama loves you.
You’re one month old today, baby. On this very cold January day, you and I are at Starbucks—one of the few places I’ve taken you—and mama even brought her computer for the first time. Of course, I’m writing a letter to you instead of getting any real writing done, but it’s still quite an accomplishment right now for us to get out of the house! We are a team, you and I, until your father gets home from his deployment in Dubai. I’m counting on you to be very forgiving as I make mistakes over the next few months. After all, I never changed a diaper before you came along—and even then you were four days old before I changed the first one! Despite your young age, you probably have figured out I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe that’s what those little smirks are that you give me sometimes—I just thought it was gas!
It’s been amazing watching you grow and change this month. You have outgrown most of your newborn outfits and have developed a little round belly and chunky legs. I’m not worried about your weight the way I was in the days after your birth. You no longer feel like a fragile newborn, though you are still so small and helpless and your head wobbles around if I don’t support it. You still have that adorable “startle” reflex where you throw you arms up in surprise (often while you’re sleeping), though it doesn’t happen as often as before. Thankfully, you sleep pretty soundly through the dog barking and the phone ringing and the television commercials that are so much louder than whatever program I might be attempting to watch in between feedings and laundry.
I’m so very tired, baby. I know that’s the way it’s supposed to be with a newborn and I try not to complain, but how I wish I could sleep more! It was certainly easier before your father left—having two people to take care of you made it seem almost effortless. But it’s been just you and me for the past two weeks and the exhaustion is a bit overwhelming at times. I never take it out on you, though I did have to put you down and walk away for a few minutes one particularly bad night when you were gassy and crying, but I can’t say the same about others. Everyone and everything gets on my nerves right now and I know it’s sleep deprivation and hormones. I’m recovering quite nicely from your birth, but I will be happy when you’re sleeping a bit longer at night and my hormones stop careening around out of control.
You’re too little for toys just yet, but you do love to stare at the ceiling fan. You’re also quite fond of lights—whether it’s sunlight through the window or the Christmas tree lights before your father took the tree down. Even the light from a lamp will mesmerize you for awhile. We bought you a swing before your father left, but you didn’t like it very much so we exchanged it for a simple rocker to put in the living room. You seem to like that well enough, especially when I rock you (it’s manual, so I have to do the work). Perhaps when you’re a little bigger you’ll enjoy the rocking and vibrations and music of an electric swing. It’s okay if you don’t, though. I’ll keep rocking you in the rocker for as long as you like it. Sometimes it soothes me as much as it soothes you.
You love your hands and wave them around like a symphony conductor or a painter wielding a brush on an invisible canvas. Sometimes you thrust your fist in the air while you’re sleeping, your lips pursed defiantly like a little rebel. I wonder what you’re rebelling against in those baby dreams? There are pictures of you with your hands in your mouth just moments after your birth. I love that you are a self-soother, even if it means that you resist being swaddled. I hate that you had to self-soothe in the hospital because I was in recovery and couldn’t hold you. But you’re already showing your inner strength, my sweet boy, and you took care of yourself when I couldn’t. I think your fondness for using your hands is a hint that you will end up with some streak of creativity. I can’t wait to find out what form it takes.
It’s incredible how much you look like your father, from the strands of blond and red in your brown hair (which seems to have a bit of curl to it—perhaps that’s my contribution?) to the dimple in your chin. I have always had a hard time telling who babies look like, but I have thought you looked like your father since I saw your sweet face on my 34 week ultrasound. You certainly act like your father’s son—collapsing into a deep sleep after you eat and maintaining a relatively good natured demeanor even when your newbie mother messes up some crucial aspect of your care. If you grow up with your dad’s personality as well as his looks, I’ll consider myself the luckiest mother in the world.
Recently, you’ve been giggling and smiling in your sleep, giving me a taste of what’s to come. I’m looking forward to that first real smile you give me. It will be a hard won reward, I think! I’m in no hurry for you to grow up though, baby. I know that as much work as it is to take care of you now that it will be even more demanding when you’re mobile! I’m very content to wait for those big milestones until your father comes home and can experience them, too—and give me a break! Your mama is a bit of a free spirit and it’s been a big adjustment having to give up my freedom. You’re worth it, no doubt, but I look forward to leaving you in your father’s capable hands for a few hours—or a few days.
I’m sorry your father isn’t here to experience all these newborn moments. He wants to be, I promise you that. And, with luck, this will be the only time in your childhood that he won’t be home with us. The Navy has given us a good life, but this is not at all the way I wanted it to go, with your dad only here for the first eighteen days of your life. He will be home in June, if not sooner, and everything will seem a bit easier. He’s very good with you and has more patience than I could ever hope to have. That will come in handy when he’s teaching you to swim—and to drive.
Most of the time, you are an easy baby and I’m so grateful for that. You have only had a handful of bad nights in the past month—four, I think, including one night in the hospital. New Year’s Eve was pretty bad. You stayed up longer than you ever have—nearly eight hours!—and I decided that you just wanted to ring in the new year with me. Of course, I could have done without the crying (and on the one night when I actually had people over—such is the way of babies, I suppose) and bottomless hunger. Perhaps it was a growth spurt rather than a need to see the ball drop, hmm? I have no experience with babies, but I hear that some of them cry a lot and, with those few exceptions, you certainly don’t. I’m especially grateful for that, sweet Patrick. I love you dearly, but your inconsolable wails on those bad nights broke my heart. I hope nights like that are few and far between. I’ll try my best to make sure you never have a reason to cry.
I bought a bunch of books when we were expecting you so that I would know how to take care of you. Unfortunately, I’m so tired most of the time I can’t do more than look at them sitting on the bedside table and hope I’m not scarring you for life as I bumble onward. But I do have friends who give me bits of advice here and there, and that helps. And there are some things I just seem to know about taking care of you—like how to hold you when you’re fussy or to start a bottle when you make certain little grunting sounds and start gnawing on your hands. I’m starting to gain confidence that I can take care of you by myself, which means we’ll be getting out of the house more (once the weather warms up—you are only a month old, after all). My strength is coming back and I’m probably gaining some muscle in the process of lifting you and your carseat in and out of your father’s truck! How I wish I could put you in my Miata—I think you’d enjoy riding in a convertible when you’re older. (I’m not-so-secretly hoping you have a bit of your mother’s free spirit in you!)
At some point, you’re going to realize your parents are not like your friends’ parents. In the first place, we’re terribly old. In the second place, not only are we still married, but we’ve been married forever! Hopefully these attributes will count in our favor, even if we did name you after the dog. (But you have two middle names, so you shouldn’t mind if we gave you Henry’s name as one of them. He’s a pretty wonderful dog, after all.) We may not be traditional parents (and I’m most definitely not going to be a traditional mom), but we have big plans to show you the world and make sure you have a wonderful life. I think you will inspire both your father and me to take better care of ourselves so we can keep up with you. What adventures we’re going to have!
There was a full moon on December 31—the second full moon of the month, which makes it a blue moon. I wanted to remember that so I could tell you there was a blue moon in the month you were born. You are the kind of baby that comes along once in a blue moon and I am lucky you are mine. It’s getting late now and it is bitterly cold outside, so I better get you home before you wake up again and wonder why your crazy mother still has you out at Starbucks.
Happy one month birthday, Patrick. Mama loves you.
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