Four Months

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Naomi,

We are four months into this parenting thing. You seem to wholly approve of  us, so the feeling is finally mutual. There was a period of about two months in the beginning when your serious faces made me think you really doubted our parenting abilities. I thought you might demand we take you back to the hospital. Lucky for us, you still haven’t figured out how to talk.

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A few weeks ago we were in a store and the saleslady kept staring at us as we (I) shopped. When I caught her eye, she sighed audibly and said, “There’s nothing like seeing a well-loved baby.”

And this is what you are. Don’t get me wrong, this has been true since we learned of your existence, before we even saw your tiny, six-week old heart beating on the ultrasound, when you were nothing but the promise of you, a  little line on a drugstore test. But now, with your chubby cheeks, your happy gurgles, and your abundant smiles, you are wearing the look of being a well-loved baby.

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And you’re a good one. You are very relaxed and you generally go with the flow. I fretted that with 12 aunts and 8 uncles, you might get overwhelmed easily, that all that love might totally overwhelm your little soul. I needn’t have worried so much. Uncle Phillip’s constant in-your face cooing, the jostling of little hands who ALL WANT TO HOLD YOU NOW I’M NEXT, you have taken in stride.

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I know, it’s cliche to say. But you’re getting so big. You are double the size you were when you were born. Your hands are starting to explore the things we place in them. You put everything you are able to in your mouth.

About that last part: oops. Up until right before Christmas, I could say you were exclusively breastfed. No formula or rice cereal had passed your lips. Until you were sitting in my lap as I was arranging an appetizer for a Christmas party– and a drop of blueberry jam fell on your hand. Which was immediately brought to your mouth.

I was horrified. But you gave me a look of such pure, unadulterated joy I wanted to give you a whole spoonful.

Maybe at six months, girlie.

I love you.

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