Today you turned four months old. You are finally awake and paying attention, and still, I’m not sure who you are. When I watch your sister now, I feel as though I’ve always understood her dramatic personality. Really, it’s only in retrospect that I can see how that baby grew to be Eleanor. Someday I’m sure I will understand your baby self much better too, but by then you’ll be in preschool.
One thing I do know about you is that you love to watch your sister. Your eyes track her as she builds Legos, plays house, and eats cupcakes. As she spun through a ballet performance a few days ago, you laughed at her. She laughed back, and I cried as I watched you two share that moment. I know that siblings often grow up to be as different as January and July. I hope that whatever happens, you two will always find a way to laugh together.
Those toys that your sister has thrust into your face since you were a day old are finally starting to fascinate you. You were particularly enthralled with a ladybug we had hanging above your Pack ‘n’ Play. You goo-ed and gah-ed as you grabbed its legs and tried to stuff them into your drooling mouth. Then it happened. Her stitching broke. Your enthusiastic tugs killed the ladybug. You’ve found many other toys to gnaw on, but none seem to satisfy you quite as much.
We’ve snuggled and babied you more than the average baby, but we’re finally trying to get you moving. You’ve had a lot of tummy time lately, but aside from some push-offs with your feet, you’ve shown little interest in going. To be honest, your bulk might be slowing you. You have luscious cheeks and beautiful rolls along your alabaster arms and legs. You’re pushing 16 pounds, so you are going to need some serious muscle to get chugging.
Henry, a year ago, your dad and I were in a desperate place. We had been trying for more than a year to have a baby, and I was losing myself in the process. I didn’t want to work. Or exercise. Or plan for the future. I only wanted to have a baby. And one year ago today, I got the beginning of my wish. I don’t think I could possibly tell you how much you are wanted and loved. I will spend my life trying to anyway.
P.S. You do have a dad…