dear baby,today you are one month old. you are a little snugglebug, a wee guppy mouthed feeder.
at night you sleep and sleep, usually waking only once or twice to be fed before going straight back to sleep. feel free to keep this up lovely lady.
we're breastfeeding and you're an efficient little feeder. 5 - 15 minutes and you seem to have a full belly. it's wonderful.
just in case you ever wonder what you looked like at one month I'll tell you: you have the finest brown hair that turns wispy and damp in the summer heat. you have blushed white skin that is still a little peely and spotty from being so new.
your eyes are of indeterminate colour but if pressed I would say they are a thunderstorm blue. I'm guessing they will turn hazel like mine. you have tiny feet and long elegant fingers. you don't get either of these things from me.
you seem to have the sweetest nature. while you sleep the most at night you quietly fuss and feed, fuss and feed during the day, especially in the morning. this means I get to spend most of my days feeding and cuddling you. I am not complaining about this at all.
even though you grew inside me for nine months, it's only now that it seems you're starting to know me. in the last few days when I scoop you up your eyes fix steadily on mine and the edges of your mouth look tentative, like the beginnings of a smile; you seem to look right into me and I fall in love with you even more.
I'm not going to lie, it's with barely suppressed delight that I organise your new wardrobe of tiny dresses and pretty shoes. I clothe you in light suits and sleeveless cotton dresses with puffy bloomers.
and so we watch you grow.
your dad waggles his fingers in the air above your head and you follow the pattern he traces in the air. and from the first day I brought you home your brother has pulled his blue painted chair, the one that used to be mine as a child, up to your hammock to read his books to you when I'm not looking. I only know he does this because when I come into your room the chair is placed by your bed and the books are scattered all over the floor.
just in case you ever wonder what you looked like at one month I'll tell you: you have the finest brown hair that turns wispy and damp in the summer heat. you have blushed white skin that is still a little peely and spotty from being so new.
your eyes are of indeterminate colour but if pressed I would say they are a thunderstorm blue. I'm guessing they will turn hazel like mine. you have tiny feet and long elegant fingers. you don't get either of these things from me.
you seem to have the sweetest nature. while you sleep the most at night you quietly fuss and feed, fuss and feed during the day, especially in the morning. this means I get to spend most of my days feeding and cuddling you. I am not complaining about this at all.
even though you grew inside me for nine months, it's only now that it seems you're starting to know me. in the last few days when I scoop you up your eyes fix steadily on mine and the edges of your mouth look tentative, like the beginnings of a smile; you seem to look right into me and I fall in love with you even more.I'm not going to lie, it's with barely suppressed delight that I organise your new wardrobe of tiny dresses and pretty shoes. I clothe you in light suits and sleeveless cotton dresses with puffy bloomers.
and so we watch you grow.your dad waggles his fingers in the air above your head and you follow the pattern he traces in the air. and from the first day I brought you home your brother has pulled his blue painted chair, the one that used to be mine as a child, up to your hammock to read his books to you when I'm not looking. I only know he does this because when I come into your room the chair is placed by your bed and the books are scattered all over the floor.






























