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Friday, August 12, 2011

Llewella 3 months

Dear Llewella,

You are nearly three months old now and writing those words down can't make me believe it. Three months, really?! I feel like you've only just slipped into our lives, ingratiated your little self right into our hearts only moments ago. Weren't you just born? Wait, wasn’t I just pregnant?!

You are speeding through your milestones, wasting no time whatsoever. What are you in such a hurry for, love? You are holding your head up frighteningly well. We lay you on your tummy - first in your little baby sleeper up on the kitchen table (which, I assure you, was actually the safest place in the house these days, despite being 3 feet off the ground) and now in the pack n’ play that takes up 30% of our teeny, tiny living room) and POP! Your adorable little head shoots right up and turns around, surveying the scene. Your crane left, stretch right and smile a little wobbly smile before plunking back down for a short break. Five or ten seconds later its POP! and you're up again.

You've been smiling for a little while now and there are few things in this world that bring such joy. When you wake up we turn you over (you are almost always sleeping on your stomach these days) and your sleepy eyes start to roll around, blinking open in the light. A few moments to focus is all it takes, and there it is, a huge, cheek splitting smile cracks. Your mouth opens as wide as possible, your little pert nose crinkles up and the skin around your eyes wrinkles - your whole face is smiling. The biggest possible smile erupts onto your little face and it breaks my heart into a thousand happy pieces.

You're also seen fit to roll over already. You crazy girl. And it happened about four weeks ago now! We had family visiting from out of town - I guess you wanted a bit of an audience. Your great-auntie TiTi was holding you, happily bouncing you around the house as cousins played, uncles grilled and grandma (also a great-grandma) basked in the happy family glow. We placed you on your tummy in the middle of the bed and watched you start. First that head came popping back up - you looked around, smiled back at the smiling faces surrounding you, then dropped that head back down. Up came those little knees, toes digging into sheets and push, push, pushing away. You struggled with it, turning and twisting from side to side, those little legs kicking out the whole time. And you caught it, you found the right hold, your body was there. One more little push and your tumbled right on over, landing on your back with an ear splitting smile to the applause of your doting family. Way to go little one!

We call you Lew these days, or Lew-Lew. Asa and his friends all call you Baby Lew-Lew, as if you needed that distinction. You are a fantastic nurser (and I must attribute at least some of that to my own second time around breast-feeding skills), eating every 3-4 hours during the day with a much longer stretch at night. You sleep wonderfully. At night. During the day there's little cat naps, but nothing lasting more than an hour, occasionally two. But when night time rolls around you are ready. We do out last feeding around 10 or 11, about the time of day I can no longer keep my eyes open. You happily devour your fill and then get all swaddled up or fall asleep on my chest. It's one or the other these days. You usually sleep part of the night swaddled up next to me, and the other part sleeping right on top of me, curled on my chest. It's not always the best sleep for me, but it's some sort of sleep, and it keeps you happy for much longer. Doing it this way we only wake up once in the night to feed, usually around 3 or 4, and then slip right back into sleep until your brother wakes around 6:30. Its really quite lovely, and the feel of your warm, tiny body against mine is delicious.

Asa loves you dearly and to be witness to that love is a joy greater than any other. He comes upt o you many times a day, pets the back of his hand against your head and coos “aww, lewlew. So tiny!” before bouncing back on his way. You are the first person he checks for when entering a room and the last person he kisses to bed at night. When you cry, Asa often drops what he’s doing (literally) and dashes to your side. He grabs your hand, strokes your head and puts his cheek against yours. “No cry Lewlew, Asa here” and, even though the sound of an infant crying at that decibel is mind-numbingly shrill, his attention to you is absolutely precious and I live for those moments.

Thank you for completing the circle.





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