October 16, 2009
Dear Georgiana,
As I write this, you are now a little over a week old, and have been living with us at home since Saturday afternoon. When you were first born, you weighed 5lb 3oz, and at the time that you were released from the hospital, you had lost 2oz and weighed 5lb 1oz, or a tiny smidge more than a bag of sugar. Even in this short time together, we’ve grown to know so much more about you.
Looking back at the pictures from your first day in this world, I can already see you growing, and it is only now that I understand when people tell me that kids grow up too fast. You are only going to be this small once, and not for very long – no matter how many pictures I take, I still never think they’re enough. When you had your first doctor’s visit on Wednesday, she said that everything about you was just fine, and you actually gained weight. As your mother likes to say, you gained a cheeseburger – which is to say you put on 1/4 lb since leaving the hospital.
We’re growing accustomed to the person that is you. You get the hiccups, like a lot. You don’t seem to mind them, and for us it’s quite entertaining. You also sneeze quite a bit, which we are told is completely normal, and right now your skin is very flaky, which we are also told is normal. We have a dozen pacifiers, but your favorite ones are the ones from the hospital.
Speaking of which, none of the clothing that we have for you fits because you are a bag of sugar. When you wear sleeves, your fists end where the elbows would normally go. You disappear in most every outfit.
I know that you wouldn’t know this, but for a baby, you are remarkably unfussy. You cry when you are hungry, or when you need a fresh diaper, but other than that, you are a quiet one who sleeps much of the day. You wake up once or twice during the night for feeding and changing, but so far you’ve demonstrated none of the stereotypical traits that make everyone tell us that we won’t get any sleep. I love that you love your mother on such a deep level, and nothing makes me happier than to see you snuggled up on your mom’s chest, asleep.
D
