You are now four months old. You’re changing so much every day that I felt the need to sit down and tell you all the things I love about you right now. If this gets long, I apologize, but I pretty much love everything about you.
The last couple days have been a roller coaster of moods for you. Your teeth are really hurting you, and you can only get so many doses of Orajel a day. I promise I’m constantly looking for new and better ways to soothe your gums (hence the $50 I spent on various gum-soothing toys yesterday, but don’t tell your father). You’re being such a great baby through the pain, though. You still haven’t stopped bestowing that gorgeous grin on anyone that cares to chat with you. It’s just that you try to eat them immediately after grinning at them.
Speaking of eating, you’ve definitely figured out your food source. I have these tank tops that have an elastic neck so I can just pull them down to feed you. The problem is, you can also pull them down. And you do. In awkward moments, like when I’m sitting at the front desk at work or carrying you through the store. I’d never dream of stopping breastfeeding, though. I know it’s selfish, but I love these moments we have together. I love how much you love nursing. No matter how hungry you are or how angry you are that you were made to wait, you always look up and grin at me when you know you’re about to eat. When you were younger, you were what they call a barracuda eater. You could down an entire meal in a few minutes. And if you’re very hungry, you still can. But you’ve become much more lazy about it other times. You eat, look around, chat with me, then eat again, then look around, then eat, and so on. But you act like your world has ended if I try to end it early. Still, even with your new lazy eating patterns, it usually doesn’t take me more than ten minutes to feed you. And it’s so very worth it. The look of happiness on your face is always the best thing I could possibly imagine.
YOU are the best thing I can possibly imagine. A woman who is newly pregnant asked me yesterday if having a baby is as hard as everyone says it is. I had to be honest and say it’s way easier than I ever thought it could be. It just feels so natural, like you’ve always been a part of our lives. You feel like an extension of myself. I could no more leave you at home during errands than I could leave an arm.
Your personality has begun developing and, let me tell you, you’re a character. You are curious, mischievous, ornery, intelligent, and, above all, happy. You’re one of the happiest babies I’ve ever met. Some of my favorite moments have been watching you interact with your dad. When I sit on the couch with you in my lap, you will reach over, touch your father, and then get this huge grin when he looks at you. You adore him almost as much as he adores you. You’re also ornery. Sometimes you get bored and start hollering for attention. I can’t tell you how much I love the sly grin you give whoever you lure in with your hollering.
You are one of the most loving babies I know. I hope this continues. Sometimes you wake up from a nap and frantically look for your father or me. Once you see one of us, you smile and go back to sleep. It melts my heart. I really hope you don’t have champagne tastes, because I don’t know that I can ever tell you no.
Your curiosity amazes me. When you get a new toy, you study it for a minute or so before reaching out for it. When you do grab it, you look at it for a bit, then, of course, put it in your mouth. But you always seem to absorb everything. You have from the very moment you were born. The nurses in the operating room even remarked that they’d never seen a baby seem to study everything so early. They say babies can only see mere inches in front of them, but you never seemed to follow that rule. Sure, all babies stare off into space, but it was more than that. I think so, anyway.
I underestimated how biased a mother can be. In my eyes, you are heads and tails above the rest. Everything you do is miraculous. You’ve reached the stage where you like to stand, and your favorite thing is to stand in my lap. Almost as good as standing in my lap is sitting on my desk facing me. If I’m not paying attention to you, you will grab the side of my face and pull me toward you and give me a big old kiss (that’s what I call it, anyway). You love faces, especially mine and your dad’s. You love grabbing him by the beard or mustache. You don’t, however, love giving him kisses. I’ll never forget the look on your face the first time you pulled him toward you by the beard and then tried to stuff it into your mouth. You do NOT like the texture of facial hair.
As I write this, you’re laying next to me on the couch. When I lay you in your crib to nap, your nose gets stuffed up. I’ve finally got my baby that likes to be rocked to sleep. I know I’ll regret it, but right now, I love that you have your favorite position: head on my chest, legs curled up on my stomach. You snuggle in so nicely, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to tell you no.
I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t want you. Now that you’re here, I can’t remember a time before you. I can’t imagine a future without you. You are my greatest achievement. I love you, my child. I hope there is never a time in your life that you question that love, because I know that it will never waiver. You never have to wonder if I’ll be on your side. Your side IS my side.