You'll be turning five months in ten days. These past months since you were born have been crammed full of living and growing. I've thought about sitting down and writing things about you so often, but moments of peace and quiet combined with inspiration are few and far between. This morning I had so many words I was ready to spill out, and I sat down at the computer with a full cup of coffee and a full heart, but then you wouldn't go down for a nap and I never got a word written. Now although I have some time, I feel emptied by the day. But I really, really want to write about you.. so I'm going to do my best.
You're my third baby and that means you don't get all the things my first babies got. Like the first few pages of a filled-out baby book, photo shoots, funny hats made especially for you. I don't remember exactly when you were born, how much you weighed or how long you were. I haven't even written your birth story yet, imagine that! But what you do get is special, too. You get my easygoing mommy-of-three attitude, which means I never try to put you on a schedule or stress out when you mess up my schedule. I feed you whenever you seem slightly interested in eating, and try to force feed you the rest of the time (Sorry, I'm still trying to make sure you don't waste away!).. forget the whole "every two-and-a-half to three hours" business. Unlike my first poor child I don't expect you to conform to my life and let me keep my freedoms, because I'm already a slave to your older brothers and what's a little sleep deprivation anyway? If you so much as whimper at night I'm there to save you. Literally. I'm there because I'm never not there. Every night since your birth you've been inches from my face and my heart so I can kiss you and love you and feed you through the dark hours until morning when you wake up and start to twinkle and wrinkle your face in giddy smiles about being alive and next to me. I adore you with complete abandon.
So it's not so bad, really, being the third baby. But I want to make sure I don't slack completely and never write about your cute baby quirks.
First of all, you're strong. The night you were born you laid on my chest and lifted your head to look around at the world with big, curious eyes. Since then you've just been getting stronger and stronger, impressing us all with your mighty little baby strength. You can stand up almost completely unsupported, and you roll from back to tummy and tummy to back without a problem. When I lay you down for naps you get in the "downward dog" position and rock, practicing for what will soon be a crawl. You squirm and toss and turn all through the night and you're constantly kicking your legs and thrusting your head forward until you bump into the wall, not exactly the most restful bed companion I've ever had. Even now while you're supposed to be sleeping in the nursery I hear bumping as your head keeps knocking against the crib railings. Don't worry, though, it's not too hard. I'm sure you're fine. ;)
It's probably been a month or so since we stopped using a shield for breastfeeding. It took two visits with the lactation consultant, one lip and tongue tie release, lots of stretching and suck training, and three visits with an osteopathic doctor to get you this far. We have another visit scheduled next week with a new doctor, and I'm looking forward to it because he's supposed to be really good at working with babies who have body tension problems. You've made a ton of progress, though, and seem to be a lot less frustrated now during mealtimes than you have been historically. Some days (and nights) I swear you still have little razors hidden in your mouth when you eat, because it hurts so much. But I muscle through and it passes.
Your brothers love you and dote on you. Duncan is full of praise for how adorable you are, and Phineas is quick to try and quench your tears whenever you cry. They both act crazy in hopes of a smile from you, and they light up when you do finally grace them with one. Your happiest smile is huge, I think you open your mouth as wide as it will open, and your face scrunches up in happy little creases, dimples, and chins. You have a ridiculously high pitched squeal that you love to use when you're talking to yourself, and it's my favorite.
...You're actually squealing in the background now... ready for me to get off the computer and get to paying attention to you. So I guess I'll wrap this up for now.
I love you with all my heart, munchkin. Thanks for being my baby.