Dear Sweet Lucy,
Today, you are one month old. And it’s been a hard, strange, wonderful month.
I knew I would love you, but I was not prepared for the tightening in my chest when I look at you, or the heartbreak when you clutch my finger. Loving you is overwhelming and difficult, and also comes so easily.
You love a good stretch, and will often spend 5 minutes groaning and stretching when you wake up or finish nursing. Speaking of waking up, you seem to fight it sometimes and whine (“Five more minutes, Mom”). You also make the greatest faces, and I’ve been trying to get photos of them all before you outgrow them. Your sweet, gassy smile is my favorite, and I can’t wait until you smile at us because you mean it.
For the first week we brought you home, you made this adorable snorting sound when you were hungry. Sadly you stopped and I already miss it.
You grunt in your sleep, and you can’t decide whether you love or hate to be swaddled. The dogs still don’t know what to do with you: Ridley just wants to play, and Midas is quietly cautious. You love the swing and the bouncer – but only for 30 minutes, max. You only weigh 7.5 pounds, but I’m so proud of your weight gain since we left the hospital.
Sleeping is still unpredictable – some days you nap well and sleep well at night, others you won’t go down all day and fuss after every night feeding. In short, you’re a newborn baby.
I can’t believe it’s already been one month with you. Time seems to be flying by and while I’m excited for you to continue to grow and develop, I also wish I could hold on to each day with you and keep you just as you are. I’ve spent hours trying to memorize your tiny hands and feet, and I’m gripped with fear that I’ll forget the details of these early days with you.
You’re the best thing we’ve ever done, baby girl.