One Month Update

Dear Samantha,

Today marks the one month anniversary of your arrival into our family. Four weeks ago, I felt fairly confident that your father and I were prepared to handle anything you could throw at us. We had, after all, weathered Lana's colic and reread The Happiest Baby on the Block to recall all the techniques for calming a fussy baby. We purchased multiple Miracle (swaddling) Blankets, put fresh batteries in the swing, and mentally prepared ourselves for nights of ear-splitting screams. But nothing we did in any way prepared us for you.

You are relaxed and easy going to a degree that I still find hard to believe. You almost never cry, and when you do it’s never for more than a minute or two at a time. You eat when you are hungry, sleep when you are tired, and just hang out whenever you’re not busy with the aforementioned eating and sleeping. If you ever do feel a little discontent, you have a talent for finding your thumb to suck on or, in a pinch, your father’s nose. You rarely ever spit up -- I’ve had only one shirt soiled so far -- and you burp with great abandon. You love nothing more than to rest on your dad’s shoulder with your head nuzzled into his neck. I know they say that all babies are different, but you are like a completely different species from the baby girl we brought home three years ago.

I certainly don’t intend to speak ill of your sister, who I love dearly, but it’s impossible for me to not compare your first months of life. While Lana howled like a wild animal, your rare cries sound more like an old man that stubbed his toe: “Ow, ow, oh!” And while Lana was a very light sleeper, you sleep so deeply that your big sister’s squeals and Rico’s barks don’t cause you to bat an eye. In fact, you often smile in your sleep at the sound of Lana’s voice -- that is when you can hear it over your own vigorous snoring.

Speaking of snoring, one of our few complaints about your infancy thus far has been the incredible noise you generate while sleeping. Whether you are snoring, grumbling, or stretching, it’s very hard for us to tell when you are waking or just making your usual cacophony of sleep sounds. If I happen to be holding you when you begin snoring, it becomes impossible for me to hear the television, talk on phone, or accomplish anything other than gazing into your cute, round face. That’s okay, though. There’s no television show that can compete with that.

I worried a bit before you were born that it would be impossible for me to love anyone else as much as I do your big sister, but those fears were alleviated on our first day in the hospital when you drifted off to sleep on my chest. I, like your father, sister, and grandparents, am completely in love with you. Thank you for completing our family, my beautiful baby Samantha.


Love,
Mama