Dear Jack,
Well Little Man, you've been here in the outside world for three months now, although I feel as though I've always known you. Everyone says childbirth is a miracle, but you REALLY were a miracle. We thought we lost you when I was about six weeks pregnant, but you held on and your dad and I both cried when we saw your little heartbeat on the ultrasound machine. Then we went to Chile's and had lunch (I believe I had a pita sandwich with fries. Delicious.). Every time we pass that Chile's we think of you.
You were easy on me for the whole 9 months of pregnancy. Never once did you make me feel queasy. Tired, perhaps, but I've always been able to take an after-dinner nap like nobody's business. You decided to come 2 weeks early, which was fine by me. Not only did I get out of two more weeks of work, but we didn't have any of that anxious waiting and wondering if you were ever going to arrive. On Thursday, May 4, I was laying on the couch and I heard a "pop". Then my water broke. Good thing our couch fabric is resistant to stain (Durapel). I called your dad at work to tell him and he sounded a little nervous and said "Are you serious?". I was indeed. Long story short: we got to the hospital, got pitocin, starting contracting, got an epidural (please don't think any less of me), went through about 15 hours of labor, then ended up having a C-section because your head was turned and I wasn't progressing. I'm not sure if you care about all these details or not. I remember being so excited and not being able to believe that I would actually see your little face within the hour. When Dr. Harkins was about to pull you out he told your dad to take a look (I wish I could have seen it too). As your dad was looking at you, I was looking at him. Again with the tears. Then I heard your first cry and they brought you over to me so I could see you. I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I can't believe that was three months ago. In some ways it seems like yesterday, and in others it seems like forever ago.
The reason I haven't written to you earlier is because in the first two months--no offense--you didn't do too much. This last month, however, you've blossomed into quite the little guy.
Things you can do now:
- Hold your head up pretty darn well
- Blow bubbles
- Smile and laugh (we can't wait to hear more of that)
- Grab for toys and stick them in your mouth
- Kick and move your arms a lot
Ways in which you and I are similar:
- You're BEAUTIFUL. And SMART. And BEAUTIFUL.
- You have one eyelid that's droopier than the other (kids in high school called me a stoner because of it...I hadn't even tried pot at that time. You should stay away from it, by the way. We'll talk about that in a few years.)
- You have EXPLOSIVE poops (I do too. A lot. Usually after something heavy or greasy.).
- You're happy in the morning (and most of the day, for that matter).
- You have full lips (very kissable).
A new thing you and I have been doing lately is reading Dr. Seuss's "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish." I love Dr. Seuss. I think he's hilarious. I'm not sure if you're really into the book yet or not, but when I open it up and you see the first really colorful page, you smile and kick a little bit. And you're able to sit reasonably still through the whole story (and it's a long one...sixty-some pages). Not to brag, but earlier this week I finally got through the whole book at a good pace without making any mistakes (it's quite the tongue twister).
Little pieces of trivia about you:
- Your favorite things are the swing, the sling, kicking on the playmat and going for walks. You're also a great sleeper and you enjoy taking a bath.
- You've recently started to notice Bones. She noticed you. Three months ago. And every day since. I can't wait to see your relationship with her develop.
- I always know when you're about to cry because you stick your lower lip out really far. If I catch it in time, I can sometimes change your cry to a smile.
- Your fussy time is between 6 and 8 in the evening. That's when my favorite things are the swing and the sling.
Sadly, I go back to work in a couple days. I already know that I'll miss you terribly, but I'm also looking forward to it. I'm a high school math teacher and I really like my job. Don't ever think that I like my job better than you, though. You'll always be my number one. But I think you'll like me better if I work. I need that type of stimulation (it's kind of like how you enjoy looking at that giraffe suspended above your playmat). Someday you'll know what I mean. Also, I'm only going back part-time, so I get the best of both worlds. I found a daycare that I really feel good about, but if for some reason you don't like it, give me a look or a signal of some kind and I'll take you out of there faster than you can say "Alimentum".
Oh yeah. Speaking of Alimentum, it's not just a funny word. It's what's been providing you nutrients for the past 8 weeks, ever since you were in the hospital for three days and they figured out that you were allergic to something in my breast milk. Everything is fine now and you are thriving. You have several chins to prove it. And speaking of breastfeeding, I'd like to formally apologize for the number of times I said the F-word in that first week. It wasn't you personally that I was swearing at, it was the sheer pain of my nipples being on fire.
Well, I think that about wraps up my thoughts. The picture I posted is from a couple of weeks ago and it is one of my favorites. I recently bought a locket and put that picture in it so that when I'm not physically with you, you'll always be with me.
I love love love you.
Moms
Here's Jack sacked out after coming home from daycare. This seems to be the trend. There's so much to look at, he's exhausted when he gets home. He's doing great there, by the way. Every time I pick him up he's chillin, just as peaceful as ever (and not all the other babies are, let me tell you...)
