I can’t believe you’re already a month old! The last five weeks have flown by and you’ve already grown and changed so much. Your dad and I waited a long time for you to join our family, and you are definitely worth the wait, Skylie. Every day we thank Heavenly Father that He’s entrusted us with you and pray that we’ll be the type of parents you deserve.
At one month:
You eat feverishly, about 4 oz. when we give you a bottle.
You rip not-so-ladylike noises in church. Thanks for only doing that when your dad is holding you.
You love being in and escaping from your swaddle.
You spit up a lot after feedings and are fussy until you get all your burps out.
You hate being put in your car seat, but once you’re in it you zonk out within minutes.
You’ve had some baby acne (it only makes you look cuter), but it’s getting better.
You like going to the bathroom at inopportune moments, and your dad’s usually the recipient of your perfect timing. (I don’t blame you, Skylie. You’re getting him back in advance for all the teasing and embarrassing he’s going to put you through later.)
You can now hold your head up for a few seconds.
You’re barely fitting into a few 0-3 month clothes. (At birth preemie clothes drenched you.)
You’ve been all over Des Moines: the mall, church, grocery stores, parks, movie theatres, drive-in movies, restaurants, apple orchards, a ward camp out, play group…
You like bath time.
You sleep pretty well at night (and during the day, too).
You’ve taken a pacifier well from day one.
You’ve been called all sorts of weird names: Squeakers, Squirt, Chicken Little, Monkey, Kiddo
During your first month:
While checking out how your thighs had gotten chubbier, your dad said to you, “You’re getting so big. Next thing you know you’ll be going to college.” Hearing that made me cry. Please don’t grow up too fast, Skylie.
At five days old your Grandma Shirley and I took you to the doctor to have your bilirubin levels checked. A lady at the hospital thought you were a baby doll.
Once when your dad was carrying you to your crib at night, you started crying. He said, “I know. It makes me sad, too.” He can’t get enough of you, and you’ve already got him wrapped around your pinkie.
Whenever I go out for the evening, your dad and I argue about who gets to take care of you. (We both want you with us.)
One afternoon a few weeks ago I left you with your dad while I worked out. On my way to the gym I was so ready for a little freedom to do my own thing, but within half an hour I was dying to be with you again.
Your dad usually gives you a bottle in the morning so I can go running. Sometimes he gets you dressed, too. One day was so cute. He tried three or four different bows on you until he found the perfect one.
At 8:39 a.m. on September 24 your dad and I sang “Happy Birthday” to you.
We love you, Skylie!
Love,
Mom
