You are 8 weeks old now! You smile and chatter and hold eye contact. You notice that special hand made mobile now and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Not for very long, but long enough that I know what you're looking at. You are growing out of your pants and PJ one-peices, but still fit perfectly into your newborn onesies and shirts. I discovered why yesterday: you are tall!
Yesterday we had your two month pediatrician visit. You were weighed and measured and we discovered that you are in the 45% for weight and the 67% for height! Long, lean and leggy! You did not get this body from either of your parents, believe me. I have no idea if this means anything for your future body except that you are within the healthy ranges, but it was funny for your parents. And don't worry, you're not too lean. You are filling out and looking like a real baby now, with rolly-polly thighs and a delicious buddha belly.
Your two month check up also has vaccinations scheduled. This was the hardest decision we've had to make for you so far (though Daddy may argue that the home birth was a scary and weighty decision, I knew that's what would be safest for you). I spent weeks reading and asking all the other mamas I know, nights crying and not sleeping worrying about it and still hadn't made my mind up 100% when I took you to the doctor. Daddy kept offering to come with me, mostly to help comfort you from the shot, but also to prevent me from chickening out. But I asked your doctor all my questions and she answered honestly. And she didn't push anything, which made me feel more comfortable. You will grow to learn this about me, but when someone tells me I should or have to do something, I tend to do the opposite. Anyway, I was very nervous about your shot and couldn't watch her stick your leg. I held you tight, she swabbed your thigh with alcohol, I dug my face into your neck, bracing both of us, she stuck the needle and injected the vaccine and...that was it. You cooed at her as though nothing had happened. We came home and you nursed and fell asleep for an hour or so. When you woke up, you were clearly uncomfortable; you basically screamed for three hours.I joined you for the first hour, our tears combined to soak through my shirt. Daddy and I took turns holding you, rocking you and trying to decide if we should give you Tylenol (another big decision). After the three hours of screaming, you were clearly tied, but still feeling bad. Daddy and I sang you all the songs from our wedding playlist (with some creative lyrics and, as you will soon learn, creative notes) until you fell asleep. No Tylenol necessary. Whew.
And today you are your charming old self. You woke up smiling, your injection site isn't red, your appetite is hearty. We have so far survived the first of many Choices With Consequences that we as parents have to make. It's heavy, this responsibility. Often there aren't clear cut "right" answers and I know there will be many times we make the wrong choice. But please know we don't take anything for you lightly and we will make every decision with love.