One month old

Dear Paige,

Today, you are one month old. (This means we survived the first month! Now, only 11 more until you are 1, which is when I remember life getting tolerable again. In fact, I'm already planning your first birthday party. It will be a giant bash, mainly to celebrate the fact your parents didn't kill each other over the course of this first year -- if, in fact, we don't. But I am getting ahead of myself.)

In this first month, you have started smiling. I'm not convinced they are actual smiles in response to anything other than gas, but they are smiles nonetheless, and every time you smile, my heart melts and I remember why being pregnant is worth it. You also make noises - lots of grunts and coos but also cries. Oh, you like to cry, especially in the evenings. And just in case you think I've forgotten about you sleeping peacefully up in your room, about 20 minutes into the slumber that might pass for a nap, you stretch those vocal cords and remind me that yes, Mommy, I'm still here! Helloooo!



And then I come get you. And then I figure out what you might like to do next. We've logged miles around the house and sometimes we venture outside. Last night, we went to the park with your brother AND we went to the grocery store.

You've also been a champion bottle drinker, and Mommy's boobs thank you for that. We're up to about 4 ounces at a time now.

And here's my new favorite skill of yours: Sleeping for seven hours IN A ROW at night. Boo-yah, Paige. You've been showing this move off the last three nights, and I'm hoping it's one that sticks around.

So far today, you've slept well (one actual nap, up in your crib without me holding you! This allowed Mommy to pay attention to her firstborn, who has taken to asking "Where's Mommy?" even when I'm right there. Today, he said, "I think you should put Paige back in your tummy."). We've also taken a bath, gone through four or five bottles and kept the crying to a minimum. Not a bad way to celebrate.

Right now, you are sleeping on the couch, propped up on a pink pillow, your little chest rising and falling with each quick breath. Every time I look at your toes, I wonder when I can paint them (tonight? tomorrow? at 3 months?), and every time I touch your hair, I think about pulling it back in a ponytail or weaving it into a braid.

But those things are down the road. And I can be patient. Because I know you'll never be as small and gentle (and yes, sometimes, ferocious) as you are right now.

And I'm trying to work on cherishing that.

Love,

Mommy