Dear Paisley Joon-

I’ve never been good at math, and don’t pretend to be, so understand when I say I don’t understand how the time has added up to two months. I find it funny because we waited six years to even try to get pregnant, and then my pregnancy seemed to eek by every day, and then you got here and I can’t seem to make the time slow down.

We’re absolutely soaking you up and enjoying every second with you. Fast or slow, the time with you in it is so much better. It feels like you’ve always been here, not like some person came home with us one day and suddenly we’re trying to make it all work. Well, there’s a little bit of that (OK, a lot of that) going on; but it really feels like you’ve been here all along.

You change so much every single day, and since I can’t bottle each moment to reflect on later, I’m trying to just savor them instead.

You started smiling this month – a moment captured by your Aunt Heather. Daddy was holding you and your little face just opened up into the biggest smile. You then smiled for Grandpa Kerry, and then Papa Rudy. I waited anxiously for my turn, hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to singing “Baby Got Back” like Rachel on Friends (a show that will undoubtedly run on your generation’s Nick at Nite). Then, while changing your diaper one afternoon, I was blowing my tongue at you and you did it. I want to suck the smile right off of your face. It’s perfect and beautiful, and shows off your gummy mouth and makes your bright blue eyes shine. You now smile all day. It takes some coercion at times, but once we get you going it’s non stop.

With the smiles came the coos. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. It’s like you’re telling us these big grand stories. You’ll sit in your Bjorn bouncer, all four limbs kicking and squirming every which way, and start smiling and cooing like nothing could make you any happier. It’s pure magic!

The one time you need no coercion in smiling at all is when your daddy comes home from work. All he has to do is walk up to you and say “Hi Munchkin Joon” and you just spring to life. The smiles, the coos, you give him the works, as if you’re saying “Hey, you’re the daddy guy! You came back!”.

I know every month will be full of “major” milestones, each one more impressive than the last. But this month, we hit some big ones.

We took you on your first road trip to Oklahoma City to visit the Koskie family and a legion of friends. You were perfect… on the drive down. Once there, I think you were just out of sorts and there was a lot of running around that threw off your slight semblance of a schedule. Without my pump and often sitting in the middle of people’s living rooms or restaurants, we were forced to give you a lot of bottles and do less nursing. By the time we got home that weekend, my milk was gone. I nursed you for six weeks and I couldn’t be happier that I did. I wanted to go a little longer, but sometimes things just happen. You’ve taken to the exclusive formula feeding pretty well. No real issues – except that you spill it everywhere when you eat and we both smell like old broccoli by the end of the day.

We took some advice of friends and started putting rice cereal in your bottles. I should have trusted my gut and not done it because we’re now on a full week of you not pooping. You don’t feel well, I know your tummy has to hurt! So we do pear juice bottles, and sometimes Karo in your regular bottles to try to get things moving. But the traffic is pretty jammed… if ya know whaddeye mean.

You moved from the Pack n Play in our room to the crib in your room. The first night I was so nervous. There was a huge storm and the monitor in our room kept picking up the thunder claps, making it sound like the walls of your nursery were falling in around you. I think I got up every hour to check on you. When the thunder caused the monitor to buzz non-stop, I finally turned it off and just slept on the couch so I could be closer to hear you. It was a long night, but we both survived, and now you sleep in your own room every night.

You still love baths. I don’t know that we’ve given you one in the sink recently. Instead, you’ve been joining me. One night you weren’t feeling well and were super fussy so I took you in to the shower with me. You loved it. You curled up in your little monkey ball on my chest and let the warm water rush over you and you never flinched. Not a muscle moved, not a sound was made, you soaked it up. And I did that moment. It was the most perfect moment I’ve ever lived. You also take baths with me and do the same, just curl up and let me pour the water over you. I think you’ll be a little water baby for sure!

This week you had your eight-week appointment with Dr. H. Oh how I dreaded it, because you were getting a round of shots. Three total, and you shrieked the most god-awful sound. We both cried, but then it was over lickety split and I know we were both really pretty OK. You didn’t feel well the remainder of the day; very whiny, fever of 99.5, sleepy and cuddly. You weighed in at 9 pounds, 13 ounces and 21.75″, putting you in the mid-30%. Still my tinybits!

I went back to work this month and it has been quite a transition. I feel really fortunate to have a job that I absolutely love and the ability to keep you home with me during the day. It’s had its trying moments (the days you break schedule) but for the most part the day flows pretty easily. You either sit in your Bjorn chair with the mobile spinning in front of you, lie on your tummy mat, or sit at the dining room table next to me in your high chair. Or, you sleep.

This time in our lives right now is in such flux. The house is a disaster, your dad and I are always tired and we never seem to be able to see each other. The days of summer are supposed to be the longest, yet I feel like they’re shorter than ever. It’s all transition. But I’ll take it, because the alternative is a life that is perfectly planned, cleaned and organized and doesn’t have you in it. I’ve lived that life, and I can say with absolute certainty that this one is so much better.

I love you –

Mama

Dear Paisley-

Today (well, back on May 27) you are one-month old. I can’t express just how hard this is for me to wrap my brain around. It literally still feels like yesterday that you came into our world, and yet somehow it feels like you’ve been here all along. If I start to recall the day you were born, I still get a lump in my throat; sometimes I even squirt a tear or two. It was the most epic day of my life and I’d relive it again and again if I could.

I know in months to come these letters will be longer and bursting at the seams with all of your new discoveries, accomplishments and cute things you do and say. I’m glad that this one will be simple. I like you small. I’ve asked you to make me a promise not to grow, but you’re rapidly ignoring my request. I think you look like a different baby every single day. I know I’m your mom and so it’s expected, but you are positively beautiful. Do you know how unreal it is to look at you and think that I grew you in my belly?

Your sleep habits have gone from decent to pretty good. There was some trial and error, but we think we’ve finally unlocked your secret code – the tummy. You are absolutely a tummy sleeper. I happened upon this while letting you nap on your tummy on the couch. In that position you would sleep for hours; on your back you’d give me a solid half hour. With a lot of hesitation, anxiety and urging from your father, we decided to try you on your belly at night. First try, solid five hours. Next try, solid six hours. Third try, eight hours between feedings and six hours of sleep. While “they” will tell us that we’re doing nothing more than  trying to kill you by putting you on your tummy, we say this is what works for you and for us.

One of the things that made me more comfortable in letting you sleep on your tummy is your incredible neck strength. Since day one you’ve been working on lifting and moving your neck, and each passing day it gets so much stronger. If I lie you on your belly facing right, within five minutes I can go in to peek at you and you’re facing left. It’s what you prefer, and lets me know you can move your head around if you need to do so. When I hold you over my shoulder, you will pull your head up and look around with those big bright eyes, then suddenly your muscles turn to jello and you collapse; but you’re getting there

In the hospital, I asked you to make a pact with me that you’d never grow. Well, you tried to uphold your end. You dropped to 7-1 before we left the hospital and then spent two weeks at 6’14; by your week three appointment you were back to birth weight and now you’re just growing right along. It makes me sad that you won’t be that tiny forever, but it’s also exciting to see all that you’re discovering and the ways you’re changing.

You’re a good little eater. I made, what was for me, a tough decision to breastfeed and I’ve been thrilled to see that I proved myself wrong and it’s better and easier than expected. You took to it immediately in the hospital and we’ve been going strong ever since. You eat every 3 hours for 20 minutes at a time. You burp like a trucker without any coaxing! During your third week we introduced formula – no more than one or two bottles a day, just to add some flexibility to our day. This has been great because I can’t always pump enough extra, and if we find ourselves out and about, or your daddy wants to get up at 4am to feed you (and luckily he does!), then this allows us to keep from starving you!

We proved that we are either awesome parents or completely skeezy parents by taking you with us one Friday night to a bar. It was the Pumphouse, my favorite haunt. The family that owns are great people, and since I work at home I am a frequent moocher of their wifi. They followed my entire pregnancy and IVF journey, so it was high-time we introduced you there. We spent the evening celebrating Aunt Jeannie’s 50th birthday and let you tag along to this smokeless, family-friendly venue until about 8 p.m. when it turns more “Friday night out on the town.” Grandma Lori even helped you hold on to your first chicken strip.

After four long weeks, your belly button FINALLY made its debut one evening while Daddy was changing your diaper. We did not keep the cord, because seriously, that’s gross!

This month, I’ve gotten to say the words “my daughter” several times, and it’s a heart-swelling feeling I can absolutely get used to.

I love you, Tiny Bits!

Mommy Lady