I can't believe that Elizabeth is one month. It seems like just yesterday I was complaining about the size of The Belly, the discomfort and, good Lord will this child ever arrive. Now, she's here. Firmly implanted into our family and life.
She stares at the three of us with her newborn-tilted navy blue eyes, a slightly suspicious, slightly bewildered look on her face. In The Martian Child John Cusack's character likens children to aliens. Children arrive in this strange, wonderful world without any idea as to how it operates. In a way, they really are alien creatures struggling to make sense of their surroundings. I'm reminded of this every time she slants that look at me. The look that says, "Well, I'm not quite certain about this situation, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."
She's outgrown a lot of her newborn clothes and is well into her 0-3 month outfits. Her little belly cracks me up. It's so round and kissable. I told Chad that the poor girl obviously inherited my genes, rather than his tall, lean genetics. He replied that it's still a bit early to tell for sure. We'll find out Tuesday what her official weight and length are. We're taking bets. I'm thinking she'll weigh in around 9 lbs 8 oz.
Her favorite sleep position is either a) on her belly - which we all know isn't advisable and b) spooned up against my chest. Joseph used to love to Mommy Nap. When he was having a rough day, I'd lay him on my chest and let him sleep on Mommy. It was an easy way for me to get a nap in or read a book. Elizabeth doesn't like to lay on my chest. She prefers me wrapping my arms and body around hers. Sadly, I'm not able to read in that position. Even more sadly, I'm not able to sleep because I have a three-year-old bouncing around the house.
She's averaging three hours of sleep at a time during the day and night. She'd get much more, I think, if she didn't fall asleep halfway through her feedings. No matter how I tickle her feet, tell her to eat up or stroke her face, she falls back, little lips puffy and wet with milk, little face completely relaxed, and little breaths slowly moving her chest. When I push too much, her brow furrows and she opens one eye to glare at me before turning her face away and going back to sleep.
I love her toothless, baby grins. And yes, they're smiles. Not gas. When I sing her a silly song in a silly voice, she smiles at me a wide, open-mouth grin. When Joseph kisses her chin and cheeks, she smiles and coos. When I say, in an excited voice, "Daddy's home! Thank God!" She nearly chortles. Silly monkey.
Joseph's doing wonderfully. After a couple of really rough days, he's settled into life very well. He's being so helpful and sweet with his Baby Sister. He picks out her clothes (oh Lord), helps with her bath and tells us that "she is the most beautiful baby." He even snuggled her during naptime yesterday and told me to "shhhhh, be quiet, Mommy!"
All in all, we're finding our footing, remembering sleep deprivation and enjoying getting to know our little bundle of sweetness. Actually, as much as I could continue typing until your eyes glaze over, said bundle of sweetness just started screaming the roof down. Her Highness calls!
1 comment:
and I didn't think it was possible for her to get any more adorable ... she's proved me wrong! Such a bundle of pure sweetness!
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