Letter 0.3

Dearest Eliza Bean,

I don’t have a lot of time to write this because we’re in the middle of the Christmas season and we’re busy hustling and bustling. But also, I don’t want to spend a lot of time on this because it would be admitting that you are, in fact, three months old. That’s a quarter of a year old. Which as we all know is practically grown up. And that is territory I don’t even want to think about.

I really love your age right now. I know that the next three months are going to be so very different than the past three months have been. At six months old, you’ll be full on baby, not a trace of newborn lingering. Now, even though you’re absolutely huge and so interactive, I still get lingering traces of the newborn that you were. I get teary eyed just thinking about the little you that you used to be.

Daddy and I go back and forth about if we’re going to have another baby or not and that uncertainty has me just wanted to hold you close all the time. I know that I say it every month, but it’s one of those things you can’t say enough, and it’s how much I just absolutely love you. You’ve added so much to our lives and I can’t believe how quickly and almost seamlessly you’ve just fit right in with us. Some days, I can’t believe you’re only three months old because it seems like you’ve been a part of us forever.

You’re still sleeping through the night, hallelujah praise the lord. Naps, well, they’re a bit iffy, but I can live with that. You still love to eat, but are taking longer and longer breaks between nursing sessions. Sometimes I forget that you can function without my boob in your mouth and we’ll spend four hours on the couch, snacking and sleeping. You aren’t too terribly interested in playing with toys just yet, although I know that’s coming soon. You’d much rather play with us and Marion. Marion is by far your favorite non food related thing in the world. Nanuq is a close second though. After shower time, you love to play happy baby with Daddy. And while I’m sure this will humiliate you when you’re fifteen, I’m going to go on and say you adore being naked. Fussy baby? Get you naked and the world is a better place. We’ve restrained ourselves on the photos though. Although I suppose I should have one or two to blackmail you with later on down the line…

Now I’m starting to think of you growing up again and I can’t leave tear stains on the wrapping baby.

Love you sweet baby girl,
Mama

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