Our Ferris is two months old.
Which means two months ago...
And two months before that....
AND NOW ...
Ferris is already so much stronger and interactive than the baby we just brought home (2 short months ago!) At his checkup our pediatrician exclaimed, "See how high he holds his head up? That's a 4 month move!"
|Ferris will have to get used to the weight of his big brain!|
I'm in the minority of moms, but I loved the first month- the month his nights were days and days were nights, the month he squinted in confusion at his aliveness, the month he was my little birdie. Over the past month, his confusion turned to recognition, the squint transformed into a curious gaze, and the primal connection we started out with has turned to love.
Airplanes with mama
|Isn't it cute that he still sucks on his arm like the 1 week photo?|
Even when he gets a little fussy at night, he's so cute. When we swaddle him, he smiles, as if to thank us for getting his spastic limbs under control. Then in the morning, he stretches and smiles again when we help him finish busting outta the joint!
Two people who can barely draw a stick figure made this baby. If that's not a conclusive indicator that we don't have full control over our lives, I don't know what is. The process of becoming a parent has really pounded that lesson into my head. We try to convince ourselves that our lives are really ours. That we've earned the good things in our lives, that the differences in luck are a manifestation of karma. So many turns in my life have been so much better than I could've planned for myself... but it's still difficult to accept that I'm not really in control of my good fortune. That when I look to make sure he's breathing, there's nothing I'm doing to make it so. I can only be thankful.