Two weeks ago, you joined our family in a whirlwind. One minute I was reading in bed at home, trying to maintain a positive attitude in dealing with prodromal labor five days post-due date, and the next minute (or six hours later, whatever), you were laying on my chest, skin-to-skin, and I was falling irrevocably in love.
I’ll be honest, my love, our first 24 hours were a bit rough around the edges. Perhaps it was me, finding my ground as a new mother all over again, or perhaps it was you, not exactly ready for the chaos of life, the florescent lights of the hospital, and the insane hosptial roommates we had, but they included plenty of tears and plenty of screaming. However, in the past two weeks you have essentially just slipped into our family like you have always been here. You sleep in four to six hour stretches at night. You take several solid naps throughout the day. You hardly ever fuss, you are a nursing champ, and seem to have a knack for tummy time.
At two weeks of age, you are already way too cute for your own good. I love how perfectly pouty your lips get when your diaper isn't changed fast enough, the brightness of your blue-gray eyes, the suckling noises you make when your nursing, and the sweet baby rolls. Speaking of baby rolls, at eighteen days you are 9 pounds, 9 ounces, 21 inches in length and 100% perfect.
One day when you are older and you have a chance to read this, I want you to know that you have been a magnificent surprise. Your father, your sisters and I are all absolutely head over heels for you. We love (particularly Daisy) gazing into your eyes and smothering you with kisses (Lily is the kissing queen!). We love marveling at how tiny your fingers are and how your left ear folds over at the top, and we love seeing that milk-drunk grin.
We love you more than all the stars in the sky and the water in the oceans.