One Month

Dear Reagan-

As we (all too) quickly approach your one month birthday, I can't help but think about how fast time has flown. Truly it was just yesterday that we met you for the first time, excited beyond tears to finally see you, touch you, hold you. Yet the calendar swears you're nearing that four week mark, and I can't call it's bluff.

It's bitter sweet, you growing up. Your breath has changed. From birth it was an amazing scent best described as sweet nail polish remover. People laughed at me when I described it as such, but it was true! I know it sounds crazy but I could sit and breathe it in for hours at a time- your breath just smelled that good; sweet, warm and alive. It has since moved on to a sour milky scent, still comforting to a needy mom, but it's just not quite the same.

Your cry has grown up, too. While you still do my ever loved (and laughed at, sorry, dear...) "uh-wah! uh-wah!" cry, you have mostly moved on from your squeaky bird cry. It was such a sweet, sincere, tired sounding cry. It sounded as though you put forth little effort, or almost as if you were hoarse. You have, however, perfected your anger cry. It hasn't been coined "Reagan Rage" for nothing.

Fortunately, for my poor breaking heart, you haven't lost you spastic, 'aerobic' movements. If you're awake and not nursing, you are constantly, without ceasing, moving. Your limbs have yet to look attached to your body. Your legs flail out between kicking, bicycling and Lord only knows what else. Your hands are constantly moving back and forth to your mouth, and if startled to any extent, they shoot outward as if you are triumphant in your winning of some award. Your face rotates between umpteen different expressions; the root of many of our laughter outbreaks.

Watching you wake up is my most coveted time these days. You do not wake up crying. You wake very slowly, starting with quiet grunting, squinting your eyes without opening them, and then begins the stretching. You stretch your arms straight out in all directions. You stretch the full length of your body, quite often arching your back off the mattress. Though you're swaddled from your armpits down (Lord help the man who inhibits movement of your arms and hands) you usually manage to stretch out of your blanket. Blinking a few times, you open your eyes and are bright eyed and alert. The last week or so, I've been able to squeeze a few smiles out of you at this time. You're quiet and content until you realize that feeling, and OH-MY-GOODNESS-WOMAN-FEED-ME-ALREADY!

It must be pretty confusing because I laugh at you almost through our whole nursing session. You are so predictable and funny. Realizing you're hungry is always such a sudden event and you do not take to the situation lightly. You are instantly furious, writhing and screaming lest I get you to my breast immediately. You can be mid-shriek as I lay you on my lap to pull up my shirt, and you know enough to know whats coming to quiet down. But I only have about .34 seconds before you start wailing again. As I bring you to my breast you inhale and exhale 3 to 4 times very quickly, from impatience or excitement I'm not quite sure. You rooting for my breast cracks me up; you are so ferocious about it. Apparently, nursing is an extremely serious task. Once latched, you almost always make a few little guttural noises as you exhale that almost sound like snickering. It is definitely a noise of success. When you first latch, you always suck so fast, as if you haven't eaten in days, all while scrunching your forehead and squinting your eyes. This is most definitely one of my favorite faces you make. While nursing you rotate between holding my hand, breast, or trying to poke your eye out.

But my favorite part about nursing, hands down, is if you break the latch before you intend to. I call you my little Velociraptor; you are all business. You usually let out one quick cry of frustration, scrunch up your little forehead (which wrinkles up for effect quite nicely) and begin wildly thrashing for my breast, upon which you thrust your head forward like a chicken on steroids pecking at the ground. It really is quite the site. If I wasn't so modest I'd take a video to have forever, but you'd probably think that I am crazy by the time you'd be old enough to find it funny anyways.

It's hard to believe we ever struggled with nursing in the beginning, what with you sucking in your bottom lip. You and I, kid, we're pros now. You're even finally gaining what you're supposed to (at least half an ounce a day) and you're chunking up to where those tiny little newborn outfits are actually starting to look a tad small on you. You were back up to your birth weight right around the 3-week mark, and at 3 weeks 3 days, you weighed 8lbs 1oz. I'm proud of you and glad you're healthy and growing like you're supposed to be, but I've gotta tell you; it breaks my heart.

Save for the first few nights home from the hospital and those AWFUL days and nights of having to be on/under the bili-lights, you have been an All Star in the sleep department. We go to bed around 11:30 and you sleep for four to five hours, nurse, and go right back to sleep for, get this, another four hours! This means I get 8 (not consecutive, but still!) hours of sleep a night. I have yet to really feel the 'new parent exhaustion'. But I'm not complaining! Okay, so I probably don't quite get eight hours because half the time you're asleep I spend just looking at you. It truly can't be helped, though. You are too darn adorable! You almost always have the cutest  little frown face on while sleeping, and the part that melts my cold, cold heart is your hold your tiny little hands right up by your face. Even in your ultrasound pictures, you did this. It is too sweet for words.

This first month has been a whirlwind of falling in love with you. From meeting you for the first time to already seeing big changes as you grow, I'm not sure how much more I can handle. But I'll be the first to tell you I can't wait to see what next month brings.

 

I love you more than I knew I ever could.

Love, Your Mommy

Your Favorite Things:

1. Boobs. Seriously, though. You could eat and eat and eat. There hasn't been a problem yet a boob couldn't fix.
2. The changing table. You LOVE being on the changing table. This is where you smiled the first smile that I count. (You were two and a half weeks. :)
3. Your hands. You are always holding your hands, sucking on your hands, or just keeping them right next to your face.
4. The ceiling fan. We lay you on the coffee table and you'll just gaze up at the fan (whether its moving or not) for quite a while.
5. Being held. You really aren't that big of a fan of being put down, except every once in awhile, you love to just stretch out on your back. (Like on the coffee table to stare at the fan or on your changing table.)
6. You have started to really enjoy hanging toys. On your play-mat or in your bouncer, you will sit and stare them down. A few times it looks like you're attempting to reach for them, but I'm still pretty sure its accidental. Soon, though!