Oh, my sweet boy.
There’s a saying that time flies, that it goes by in the blink of an eye. And, while that’s kind of true, the other week I said to your daddy, “Can you believe it’s only been 11 weeks since he was born? I mean, only 11 weeks ago.” Because it seems like you’ve been with us forever. I can hardly remember the time when it was just him and me in the pre-Henry period of our lives.
Something clicked this past month. We got our groove. When I look back, it seems like it was right around your 9th week. That coincides directly with when you started sleeping through the night so I attribute a lot of it to that. Those folks who say that after you have children “you don’t need as much sleep anymore” are lying. You manage to survive on less sleep, but it doesn’t make it any less necessary. Survival is really different from thriving. The first 8 weeks with you were survival for me and in many ways it was simply that I was sleep deprived. (I’ve never been good without my sleep. I once threw up after a slumber party because I had only gotten 5 hours of sleep.) Once we all started getting 8+ hours of sleep a night, the heavens opened and suddenly it felt like “we can do all the things!”
You’ve had a big month in more ways than just sleep. You have started smiling and talking so much more and it makes us do the goofiest things just to see you socialize. You discovered and love your crib mobile, but you have a straight up love affair with the polka dot curtains in your nursery. The second you spot that fabric, you start talking and smiling like it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen. It can occasionally stop you mid-cry so that you go from wailing to jabbering and smiling. It’s so adorable how you are so full of expression.
You got your first cold when you were 10 weeks old. I immediately kicked things into high gear with warm baths, baby Vicks, Nose Frida, coconut oil/lavender essential oil, the humidifier, nasal drops, and pretty much anything else I could think of that would help you get better. It broke my heart to see you so uncomfortable. (And also to clear out your nose; man, you hated me for that!) Thankfully, with a rigorous anti-sick protocol in place, you got better quickly and it never got worse than a stuffy nose and a few coughs.
The first two times you rolled over, you were 5 weeks old. We got it on videotape to prove that we weren’t crazy new parents (at least in regards to you rolling over), but also knew that it was still probably a fluke times two. Now you’ve just begun rolling from your tummy to your back…intentionally. It still startles you a bit when it happens like, “what in the world, everything just flipped!” Some days you flip over almost as soon as we put you on your tummy and then some days you refuse to do it and prefer to push yourself up on your hands and look around instead.
In January, we had some breaks in the weather and were able to get outside for a few walks. February hit with some brutal winds and temperatures so we’ve been mostly confined to the indoors (also because of your cold). I’m antsy to get out more and I know you’ll love the change of scenery. Also, for as vocal as you are with your daddy and me, you tend to get quiet around strangers and don’t smile very readily. Warmer temperatures will mean more socializing and less of your there-are-only-us-three-people-in-the-whole-world reality.
I’m so excited for every new development ahead for you, my little pumpkin pie. You get more and more fun by the day. Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, boop, you go and add something new to your repertoire and it usually knocks my socks off with cuteness.
Oh Henry, you have brought so much joy to my heart. A year ago, I wasn’t pregnant yet and now look at me: I’m a mama. You’ll never hear me sugarcoat the difficulty of having a newborn. But let it be known for the record that you, my beautiful child, have been worth every tear, every exhaustion-induced-migraine, and every moment of sheer terror and I-can’t-do-this. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Life has taken on a whole new meaning with you here and I find myself thinking about you constantly. If you’re in my arms, I’m mesmerized by your face. If you’re in someone else’s arms, I’m jealous that you’re not in mine. If you’re in your crib sleeping, I miss you so much I want to go pick you up just to have you near me. My love for you has made me a crazy person.
You’ve made me smile more and laugh more. You’ve made my heart swell to astronomical proportions. You’ve made me make baby noises and silly sounds that are ridiculous to anyone who is not a parent. (I know because just a couple of months ago, they were ridiculous to me too.)
Loving you has been such a pleasure.
You’re growing so quickly and I just want to eat up every minute with you before you turn into an adult right before my eyes. There’s this crazy ebb and flow of parenthood in which you want your child to grow and you’re looking forward to crawling and walking and talking and all that stuff, but then you want your child to remain little because time moves so damn fast.
I’m caught in that juxtaposition right now. Ultimately, time will go at it’s regular speed and nothing I can do with either speed it up or slow it down. So my goal as your mama is to soak it in.
My sweet Henry, I’m breathing in every moment with you. You are my joy.
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