I can't believe you are four weeks old already! I mean, I seriously can't; I feel like I am just now starting to resurface from the postpartum fog I was swimming in, only to find that my tiny baby has been switched out for a real, giant boy while I wasn't looking! I am terrified I have already lost some of your precious, fleeting newborn sweetness to the demands of toddlerhood and laundry and the delirium of sleeplessness. Every day there is a moment in which you seem to me suddenly bigger, and my heart lurches a little in panic. I want to freeze you until I have thoroughly soaked in every second of your littleness, of the way your dark, downy head still fits in the palm of my hand. The way your eyes shine up at me while you nurse, the color of ripe blueberries. The way your lower lip thrusts out when you try to eat in your sleep, and the scent of your hair when you're tucked in on my shoulder.
Today we took a walk around the neighborhood, and Addy fell to her knees and wept inconsolably when I tried to put you in the stroller and have her walk with me. So I let her ride, and I carried you against me in your sling. Every few minutes I would peek down at you, just checking, and that bright blue gaze kept meeting me, steady and calm, just taking everything in. Then after about twenty minutes I peeked and you were asleep, your body curled against mine to fit, your dimpled little hands resting serenely on your cheeks. You looked so precious it was heartbreaking. I nearly walked the stroller into a tree staring at you.
Addy calls you E-yi, as in "Eeyi, eeyi, yo." Lately we have all begun doing it, and sometimes without meaning to. "Oh, Eyi, don't cry," I will croon sincerely, not even noticing that I am calling you the chorus of a song about barnyard animals. I hope that you are ok with this and we are not scarring you for life. Come to think of it, I spend a lot of time worrying that I might be scarring you for life, by not rushing to you the second you start crying because I'm in the middle of putting on Addy's shoes, or by watching TV while breastfeeding at night instead of staring at you raptly (because when I WAS staring at you, I kept dozing off accidentally.)
You seem fine, though, and you even seem to like me- you perk up when you hear my voice or see me walk by, the same as Addy did, so I must not being screwing you up too much yet. And you're getting so chubby and cute and even starting to bust out some smiles, and surely I can take some credit for these things too, right?
Just now you looked up at me and smiled, open-mouthed and half asleep, and then stuck out your tongue and kind of snorted and chuckled. You are the noisiest little guy! Unless you are sound asleep, you're almost constantly gurgling and stretching and grunting and snarfling, often in apparent displeasure. In these instances, the grunting is generally followed by a crescendo of gunshot farts. It always amazes me that a nine pound infant can produce burps and farts as loud, if not louder, than those of a fully grown adult. Other times it's because you're hungry, which you are almost constantly. We call you Grumpy Bear because you really hate to be kept waiting if you're getting hungry!
Well, you're awake now, and it's getting tiresome to type one-handed while you wriggle on my lap, so I'll end this. Happy One Month Anniversary of being in the world! We hope you're having an ok time so far! We're sure enjoying you, Grumpy Bear, farts and all.