4 months old

Dear Kaylee,

It’s amazing how much you have changed over the past few days, let alone the entire month. November brought  with it your first Thanksgiving, and you tried your first meal of sweet potatoes while daddy, grandma, grandpa and I ate our turkey. You had your first real photo shoot and also marveled at the sight of your first christmas tree. Your eyes are more brown than blue now – but I still think you’ll end up with green like your dad and me. You are also so much better at playing with toys and can get anything we give you into your mouth with ease. You continue to love your jumparoo and bumbo chair and of course, your magical swing. Lately, your feet are all the rage and you spend a great deal of time watching them, grabbing them, and trying your best to get them into your mouth. In fact, we have to swaddle you before all of your naps or you’ll wake yourself up trying to grab your toes in your sleep. 

You are very interested in food and watch us intently while we eat. We have started giving you cereal a couple of times a week which typically ends up more on your face than in your belly (which your dad can’t stand but I find quite entertaining). You have also decided that you’ve had your fill of nursing and weened yourself the past few days. I’m on the fence about giving up on you just yet, and have continued pumping at night in case you change your mind.

The day you were born seems so far away now, it’s almost like a dream.  I miss those early days, sitting with you in the wee hours of the morning, breathing you in while the world was quiet and dark all around us. It was a secret only you and I shared.  Unfortunately, I’m so used to being up with you that I still wake up around 4:30 even though you’ve been sleeping soundly through night for weeks. I typically get up check on you anyway, then wander out to the kitchen to wash your bottles and give the cats a snack before returning to bed. It’s as if I’m not quite sure what to do with myself without you. I imagine one day several years from now, when you’ve grown up and are leaving home for the first time, I’ll find myself pacing the halls again feeling the same way I do right now. Proud of you for accomplishing a wonderful milestone in your life, and sad that it means you don’t need me as much as you once did. (That is, of course, assuming that your father lets you out the door in the first place)




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