Praise Jesus and antibiotics, everyone is on the mend. Except that now they both have upset stomaches from the antibiotics ... which just reminds me that if I'm waiting for a perfect day, I'm going to be waiting a long time. Better is good enough.
It occurs to me that in all of the drama of the summer, I have told you all about illness, sleeplessness, tears, and transition. What's been left out are all of the GOOD things about our new baby boy.
He's so cute, ya'll. He doesn't look a thing in the world like his brother, and it depends on what he does as to who he resembles. Most people have commented that he looks like Brian, if anyone. He'll make certain faces that are the Lee (my maternal) family. And he has reddish hair and blue eyes that seem to be getting lighter rather than darker. I don't know where that came from. When he sleeps he resembles Asher, but only vaguely (and probably only to his mother).
And he has such a sweet little personality. This week we have discovered "Ready set go." Everybody loves it - Asher lines up by the fireplace, laughing already. I say, "Ready?" "Rery!!" he replies. "Set?" "ET!" and then he can't wait for the prompt ... "GO!" He laughs and runs five or six steps, then lines up at the fireplace again. Silas thinks it's hysterical. Ready-set-go makes him GRIN as big as he can, and once or twice has made him chuckle. It's so cute. He's got a little dimple on one side, and seems to be rather quick to smile or play. Even the other morning after our near-death experience (or what felt like a near-death experience. My doctor assures me it is very unlikely he will die choking on liquid, but in that moment it really felt like he might), when my hands were still shaking, he kept smiling at me. The little stinker - very nearly stops breathing, then SMILES .
I can't believe it, but he already has lost the newborn look (which is precious, but let's be honest - unless you're related to them, newborns look like sleeping babies. And when they're awake, they look like little blobs) and is growing into a baby. I'm already putting away 0-3 month clothes (need some? I have onesies to go around). He's also falling into the young baby pattern of eat, play, sleep, that Ezzo insists upon creating, but I insist will happen naturally if you just follow their cues. He still wakes up once at night to eat, but mostly sleeps through that feeding and then goes right back to bed. I rock him to sleep but he will wake up when I put him down, and nine times out of ten will squirm for a minute then fall back asleep on his own (which AMAZES me, because Asher was nowhere near able to do that at his age). He doesn't need to sleep on me at all anymore, though sometimes I let him nap on me in the afternoons, just because I want to. That time is so short, when they can still fit into a little ball on your chest. I'm more reluctant to see it go this time around.
All babies cry (right Laura?), but he's not at all a fussy baby. Even with both ears infected, he was surprisingly calm. Mostly if I can hold him, he is fine. All he wants in the world is to be against me. How do you argue with that? Though he gets put down plenty - out of necessity more than philosophy. I keep telling him, he would be an ideal only child. All he wants is to be held, and if holding him was all I had to do, I would be happy to oblige. But while it's my lap he prefers, it's Brian who has made him laugh. Even now, at two months old, Mom equals comfort, while Dad equals fun. Maybe they are hard-wired that way.
In the past few days, I've realized that the newborn phase is slipping away, and I've had the urge to write down everything now, fast, before I forget it. My memory is terrible, and I would love to say, I'll never forget how he slept on me for the first few weeks. But odds are, I will. And some day far far in the future, when some other far away future baby (who is far from this moment, let's be clear) does something like want to sleep on me, I'm going to say, none of my other babies did that. So I'm trying to write it all down.
But I will remember emotions and impressions - like the sweetness of looking down on a tiny baby head and washing tiny baby toes. By Christmas I'll have a gummy chubby boy smiling in front of the tree for pictures. And by next summer Asher will have conversations that won't require my interpretation, while Silas will be toddling away from me, chasing after his brother. We have a lot to look forward to. The best thing about having a bad memory is that I'll probably forget Asher's throat covered in ulcers or Silas choking. What I'll remember is the sound of Asher saying, "Kiss him," whenever he sees his brother, and the feeling of sitting in the recliner, that first night, both babies clean and sleepy in my lap, knowing my babies were - finally - safe, well, and home.
Thanks be to God.