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Eleven months – already?

Dear Boobah,

Here we are at 11 months, just as mama turns 35. She really wanted to have a baby before 35, and we just made it. For whatever reason, this is a harder birthday for mama, much harder than 25 or 30. She thinks it feels too close to 40, and her time for making a decision about your siblings is quickly running out. She’s not sure how she feels about that. She and daddy are talking, but having you was pretty rough on mama’s health and daddy’s not sure he wants mama to risk her health again.

Don’t worry, baby, you were totally worth it and mama wouldn’t change a thing. Except the gestational diabetes. She would’ve preferred not to deal with that part. But she did, for you.

And here you are, so close to a year old. Mama can’t believe how quickly we got here. You are growing and developing like crazy. Lots of babbling, although no real discernable words. You say ‘dada’ ‘guhguh’ ‘mama’ and even something that sounds like ‘woah’ – but none of them have any meaning that we can tell. You’re still working on adding a variety of sounds. That’s okay – your speech is developing and it’s possible that mama just isn’t realizing that you associate those sounds or words with people or objects.

In the meantime, you’re crawling all over and getting faster by the day. You can pull yourself up onto your knees, and can stand when we prop you up and let you hold onto a table, your playpen, the couch, or our legs. You climb all over us when we hold you, and are rarely still. more…

Month four: letter to our son

My dearest son:

As I told you before, I probably won’t be consistent at this newsletter thing. I’m too busy spending time with you, drinking in your eyes, mouth, fingers, and toes. I can’t get enough of your sweet smile, your dimples, and your giggles.

little hands will build big things one day

This weekend, we heard you laugh in your sleep. It was one of the most precious things we’ve heard. Ever. And I heard it again last night. I’m still mopping up the puddle of goo from my side of the bed, where I melted.

You are a snuggle bug. When I take a nap with you, you plaster yourself next to me. When I put my hand on you, you stroke my arm. But when your feet are pointed my way, watch out. You love to kick. You grin madly, flail your arms, and kick with abandon. You look like a little running man, but with no traction. It’s seriously cute. And you think it’s hilarious. So we let you kick us. Daddy and I both know we’ll regret that later.

Through your eyes

I’m a little scared of your poop right now. I’m poop shy. You tend to fill your diaper up after eating, which is pretty typical. But last Saturday, after you pooped, I opened your diaper to change it. You started to pee a little as I wiped up the mess, so I covered you back up, getting poop all over you again the process. And then I heard a dreaded rumbling, and you started pooping again. At that point, I could only pray that you didn’t have gas, too. You finished, and I got ready to wipe again. You started pooping again. At that point, I got a little nervous that you’d start kicking and either get your foot in the mess or move the diaper and release a poop avalanche. I held onto your feet for dear life and you pooped yet again. At that point, I’m just praying the sides of the diaper catch everything, as I was changing you on our bed. On my side, no less. I must have used 15 wipes to clean everything up. I prayed the whole time: please don’t poop again, please don’t fart, please don’t poop any more! I’m still traumatized from it. When I hear you poop now, I cringe. Will the diaper hold? Who knew one little baby could produce so much poop all at once?

But I’ll manage anyway, because that’s what mommies do.

Time is picking up speed, and the days with you are starting to pass much faster than I would like. Right now we’re your favorite people in the whole world. You wake up with a smile for us. You grin when Daddy gets home from work and says hello to his boy.

typical guy - already hogs the remote

I knew I would love you. I always have. But I didn’t know what an absolute joy you would be. I can’t get enough of you. I could stay home all day and do nothing but entertain myself with you, go for walks, play peek-a-boo. It just doesn’t get old. I hope it continues for as long as possible, this inability to get enough of you. I live for that smile, those snuggles, these giggles. I imprint them with indelible ink on my memory.


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Week 11 letter to my son

Dear Wee One:

Mama probably won’t write a monthly newsletter like some moms do. It will be more sporadic than that and may or may not include pictures. It doesn’t mean that Mama loves you any less than those other moms love their kids. Mama will just write to you when she feels she has something to say.

In the last 7 weeks, you’ve started to develop a personality. You’re so funny. You smile a lot, a huge, lopsided grin that cracks me up every time. And you’re starting to laugh, too. It’s my favorite sound in the whole world. Sometimes, when you’re eating, you pause and look up at me and grin before going back to eat some more. That’s my favorite part of the day. I want this time to last just a bit longer, this bond we have.

You’ve discovered how to get your hands to your mouth and you’re starting to suck on your fist. Occasionally you get your thumb in your mouth just right. But you still prefer to chew on your whole fist. But you don’t have complete control over your arms and hands. You still flail a lot and smack yourself in the noggin or scratch your face. But it’s getting less frequent.


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Month one: a letter to my son

I wrote a letter at the one month mark for our little one. I’m not trying to copy anyone, or do it better than those that have done it. I’m doing it because I want to remember and I want to someday show these to the little guy. I’ve had it down on paper for almost a month now, but I’m just getting around to typing it. Number two will be coming in a week or so, too.

Dear Wee One,

You’ve been with us one month now. I waited 40 weeks to meet you and I wasn’t disappointed. We had a bit of an ordeal to get here, as your birth wasn’t easy. You’ll hear the story over & over. But I hope you’ll appreciate it when you have kids.

You are so beautiful that sometimes you take my breath and all thoughts away. I can’t believe you are here, even after all the work to actually get you here. You can already control your neck somewhat. You hold your head up for short periods and can lift and turn your head when you’re on your stomach. You get more alert each day. And you’re starting to smile. Daddy, Granna, and I will do all sorts of silly things to get you to smile. And my heart bursts every time that lopsided grin and dimples appear.

You have been so greatly anticipated! Granna absolutely loves showing you off. She took you all over the courthouse while we were there and introduced you to everyone at church this past Sunday. She truly adores you, as does Grampa. While you won’t remember this time with them, they certainly will. But we’ll have pictures and video to show you.

When you are eating, I just love to rub your soft little head and stare at the expressions on your face. I love the way you scrunch your face as you stretch. But when your tiny little hand grasps my pinkie, you wrap around my finger and my heart.

I never knew how strong, how all-consuming a mother’s love can be. There’s something about being totally responsible for a helpless person that changes you. It has changed me. I refer to myself as “Mommy” and “Mama” all the time. I talk to you a lot, telling you how much we love you, but also narrating what I’m doing. You love to be talked to. And you love to dance with Mama.

I can’t believe how much our lives have changed. But I truly love it. I love spending this time with you, Daddy, Grampa and Granna. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Welcome to our world, my little one-month-old.


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