I realised with horror this morning that you’re almost 4 months old now and I’ve not written you a letter in ages. People always said with my second child I wouldn’t do the same and I vowed they’d be wrong. I intend to keep that promise to myself, for you, and to keep writing to you, but I’ll be honest and tell you that I sometimes just don’t have time. Every first thing you do is a beautiful gift to Mama and I treasure it deep in my heart.
So what are those firsts?
You are the loudest little girl ever and your cry is earsplitting. But then, so is your incredibly beautiful laugh. You are so smiley, and it takes over your face. The text language laugh, :D, was made with you in mind. Stunning.
You have incredible eyes. Large and massively expressive. You always look surprised, like you’re seeing everything for the first time – which sometimes you are! Your face is like a book though – so open and expressive and telling a story.
You throw up like no one I’ve ever seen. Seriously, waterfalls can gush from your mouth in fountainesque grandeur. It’s as impressive as it is grim, but we adore you regardless. At least it means I change my sheets regularly.
You have entered the screechy phase of voice finding, which is a loud experience for the rest of us, but at least one we know is normal and healthy.
You are a little sponge, absorbing everything. We see you watching the TV like an old pro and you watch Ameli with keen interest, flashing little smiles at her when she pays attention to you, which makes her give you full body hugs. She’s actually quite rough with you, but in a totally playful way. I guess we never treated her like a glass doll, so she’s not likely to treat you that way either!
You have also attended a few press events in London and your first blogging conference too! A real little conversation starter you are!
I’ve also been using you as a baby massage doll, for which you’ve been largely very compliant. It’s been a pleasure.
I find you to be a very tactile child. You like to hold my hand, you like to be touched and you like to be held. Your hand holds mine when I’m nursing you and your eyes are searching, questioning and observing.
Well, little one, thank you for choosing us for your family and for being so incredibly adaptable and just getting on with things, really. You’re such a perfect sleeper, you wake up with smiles and you quietly watch the world go by, mostly. It’s awesome watching you embrace your world.
Everything about you makes me excited about the years to come. In what is a very difficult time for us as a family, you have come as the embodiment of hope. I am so grateful to you and I love you to the ends of the universe.