To My Best Friend, My Daughter, My Little Banana,
BSparl, today is your two month birthday.
Two months ago, you came bursting onto to the scene via c-section, filling the operating room with the sound of your cries. The first pictures of you show your pouty mouth and your scrunched up eyes, wailing because you were taken from the warmth of my body and introduced into the harsh, fluorescent world on the outside.
We spent four days in the hospital, learning how to care for you with the help of the nurses at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center. They showed us how to give you a sponge bath, how to help you latch on to feed, and how to change your impossibly teeny yet impossibly icky diapers. And then they sent us home, to figure out how to take care of you at home.
BSparl, we've learned a LOT over the last eight weeks. The first few days, we learned how to dress you in those little newborn outfits with all the freaking snaps, and we constantly snapped the wrong snaps up, leaving your legs stuck in a strange baby yoga position for a few seconds. We learned how to accidentally put a diaper on backwards, somehow. We learned how to spend the first few weeks leaping up from bed to check on you every time you sighed. (We also learned how to function on little to no sleep. That was a steep learning curve, kiddo.)
You are a serious little baby girl, with eyebrows that furrow and with a sweet smile that you just started showing us a few days ago. You like to go for walks in the stroller, you seem to dig your play mat, and when Abby snuggles up against your feet, your eyes get all wide. You love to be held and mornings are the best, when you wake up grinning and kicking your feet, ready for breakfast.
Even though you are still a little peanut, your burps pack a wallop. You totally sound like a 95 year old man. Sometimes people stare when we burp you in public. ("Did that come out of her?") Your diapers also pack a similar wallop, and you seem to love the game "Fooled You!", when we take one diaper off of you, put the new one underneath you, and you let loose with the elimination of your choosing instantly upon the arrival of the clean diaper.
You've rendered your writer parents wordless. When you are snuggly and warm, we stare at you in amazement. When you look at us with your blueberry eyes, our hearts melt. When you smile, we can't find the words. And the words we do seem to know these days are all ridiculous: diapies, bibby, wipies ... everything ends in the "ees" sound. You make us speak in pure gibberish all day long.
The day you were born, we fell in love with you instantly. And now, two months later, we can't really remember what life was like before you arrived. You've completed our family, little girl, and we are so excited to be the ones who get to watch you grow up.