7 Weeks Minus 1 Day

48 days ago, I gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy ever. Of course, I am a bit bias here.

It's amazing how fast he has grown. His face has already changed and everyone comments on how "big" he's gotten. My big boy is most likely 11 lbs. by now. He has been in size 1 diapers since 2-3 weeks old and is filling out 0-3 month clothes. Where did my little guy go?

He can hold his head up really well - not so wobbly anymore - and finds faces, ceiling fans and lights especially fascinating. He's very strong and loves to stand up - assisted of course. I knew his legs would be strong from those huge kicks in my belly. He's started cooing and even had his first responsive smile yesterday. For grandmom. Not for mommy and daddy despite their endless efforts. Little stinker. At least he knows who to impress. My mom went right out to BRU to buy him a present.

I admit it makes me a little sad to see him get older. Each weekly milestone makes me proud but it is also tinged with sadness as the time goes by so quickly. I hold him and try to memorize how his body lies on mine. I examine every detail of his toes and fingers and try to emblazon it in my mind. I breathe in his baby scent (or is that Johnson's and Johnson's?) and try to store it so I'll never forget. The little things that make this newborn phase so special and romantic.

But as I implied in an earlier post, the romanticism is regularly interrupted by reality. Spit up. Vomit. Poo. Pee. Colic. Reflux. Pumping. Feeding. Soothing. It's all in a day's work for a mom. I may still be on maternity leave but it's a job in itself to decipher the needs of a tiny, albeit adorable person. I'm getting better with noticing his signs. When he's hungry, he becomes a human bobblehead (watch the teeth! That noggin is dangerous) and slobbers on his chubby fingers. When's he's tired, he cries excessively with bursts of "oh" mixed in and the only solution is to stand up and hold him chest to chest while bouncing rhythmically. When he wants to play, he'll get wide eyes and stare around, looking for anything that might be more stimulating than my mug. When angry, he furrows his brow, pouts and pumps his fists in protest. It's hard not to laugh when Mr. Fussypants reveals himself.

One of the things I expected to be the hardest has actually turned out to be rather pleasant: sleeping. Nate is a great sleeper. Granted, we are co-sleeping - which I swore I wouldn't do but after fighting the bassinet and crib, here I am - but he can go for a 4 to 5 hour stretch at night between feeds. We usually go to bed between 10 pm and midnight and he'll wake up around 3am and again around 630am or so. The result is a well-rested mommy, daddy and baby. I know eventually he needs to move to his own room. But right now, this works for all of us. Especially for breastfeeding in the wee hours.

I've heard through the grapevine that 3 months is the magic age when you can start scheduling. When everything just falls into place. So, while I miss the days that pass, I look forward to the days that follow. Everyday, more of his personality shines through and I get to know my son a little bit more. How could you not love that?