It is hard to believe a month worth of days and nights (oh, how they all meld together after awhile) have passed since you made your grand entrance. Your daddy and I can scarcely recall what life was like before you joined us and made us a family (although I have a vague recollection of showering daily and sleeping for more than 2 hours at a time). There are no words to adequately express the joy you have brought to our lives. (Note to self: re-read this post at approx 2am tomorrow morning during nightly scream-fest to remind yourself about all the joy.)
When you first came into the world, I only got to see you for a few seconds before they took you away to make sure you were healthy and strong (you were a little bit early). It was so strange to know that you were in another room, away from me. For the past several months, you had been my constant companion, always making your presence known with a kick to the rib or your constant hiccups (you still have those). I hadn't been without you since the moment of your conception and the next several hours were so difficult for me. I just wanted to have you next to me, but you needed to be in the NICU and I was recovering from surgery.
This is you, right out of the oven; what a stylish little hat you have on.
Daddy and I visited you in the NICU every day for 8 days, sometimes several times in one day. We learned how to feed you, bathe you, change you and basically not be afraid of your tiny little self! Your favorite thing during this time was to "kangaroo" with me--I'd lay your tummy on my chest and we would listen to each other breathe & feel each other's heartbeats--no matter how fussy you were about a noise or a light in that busy place, when we kangaroo'd, you would just melt onto me; it was almost like having you in my belly all over again. That was the era of the "Joe Cool" sunglasses and the magically appearing lactation consultants. I swear, my breasts must make some sort of high pitched squealing noise that only LCs can hear when I unhook my bra; they arrived within seconds of each attempt to get you on the boob.
You've been home with us now for three weeks and every day has been an adventure. You have mastered the art of sleep grunting and babbling, and you know how to hold the pacifier in your mouth with the back of your hand. You created the "sneezescream", though I fear you've outgrown it (and alas, we never captured it on tape). You already share your daddy's mannerisms when it comes to sleep--one hand up and tucked underneath your chin.
You are even developing some basic language skills (I can dream, right?) You have a very specific cry, particularly when we are changing your diaper, that sounds exactly like you're saying, "Okay", as in, "Okay, you got me. Good joke. Okay, you can stop with the wipes and the ointment now! Okay! Okay! Seriously! Okay!"
We do spend most of our time on the essentials: eating, sleeping and pooping. In those rare moments when you are awake, you spend most of your time in the sling (this is how we "attach), the bouncy seat (this is how mommy is able to blog or luxury of luxuries, paint her toenails) or enjoying some good old fashioned tummy time (this is how you learn to hold your head up and release gas--two very important skills that will impress people later in life).
sling time with daddy; we digs the naps in this house right now.
swimming in the bouncy seat, apparently just after taking something really hot out of the oven
Rocking tummy time with the boppy
Sometimes it is overwhelming to have a little person to take care of 24/7; before you, we only had ourselves to worry about. It was easy. Now it's not. Now every new day is a challenge that we've never faced before. But I cannot begin to tell you, little Mr. E, just how much your mommy & daddy adore you and how much we look forward to the challenge and the joy of each new day.