Nettles – welcome to the end of the ‘fourth trimester’. Congrats and you may pick up your diploma at the front desk.
Here’s how you got there:
I could have three babies… thirteen babies… thirty babies… and one thing will never ever get old: The first giggle.
It started a couple weeks ago… the silent laugh. Your brother was a star at it, too. That silent laugh says so much – I’m watching you, I’m hearing you, I like it.
Like your intense gaze, your constant eye contact, your silent laugh is so telling.
And then you giggled. Like your sister did. A geee here. A gooo there. And then you burst out, full chuckle. That’s how I know we’re going to have some serious fun, Nettles.
And it’s not all laughs… it’s also the smiles, which you are extremely generous with these days – and thankfully, since your big sister is finally getting the affection from you she’s craved after all her hugs, kisses, pats, whispers.
We had a bit of a scare back there, when we thought there was a good chance you’d be diagnosed with hip dysplasia after your first postnatal ultrasound (not every baby is that lucky, right!). After a month of waiting, it looks like you might be in the clear. Go hips!
I’ve also been running around to job interviews. I wonder if any of this professional woman energy will transfer through the breast milk. Reach for the stars, Nettles! Well, even if it doesn’t, you’ve been an excellent sport for the babysitters, so thank you,
On to… boys.
There’s something about you and the boys. Specifically five- to nine-year-old boys. There’s also something so very special about five- to nine-year-old boys. I can count on at least one hand the number of boys who have asked to hold you, have taken care of you, have melted into mush while looking at you in the last month or so.
You’re good for the boys.
Now that’s a life skill, Nettles.