Four Months

Dear Nathan,

The last four months have gone by so quickly, yet it seems like you have always been here. You are so completely a part of our family that none of us can imagine life without you, even Patrick.
Your biggest development of this last month is definitely your physical growth. I swear you're just a little football player. You're a chunk. I don't know a better way to say it than that. You don't look the least bit overweight, though--just filled out. One glance at most of the pictures I have of you, and nobody would ever guess all the chub wrinkes that are hidden underneath your clothes. Your thighs are monstrous, short little pillars to hold up that beer belly and big head. They are easily as big around as my wrist, if not more. It's truly something to compare you to your brother at the same age, even the same size. You're filled out in a way Patrick never was, and probably never will be.

You look just as tall as you are thick, though. You only barely fit lengthwise on your changing table on your playard anymore. When you stretch out, your head touches the top while your toes push against the bottom. It will be interesting to see the exact stats at your check-up on Friday. I suspect you're still well above average in both weight and height. How did your daddy and I spawn such a large child as you?

Your size is also starting to present some challenges for us. You have outgrown the bed you've been sleeping in, the bassinette part of your playard; its weight limit is fifteen pounds, which you have certainly exceeded. I would love to move you into your crib in the room with Patrick, but your sleep patterns still need some work. For the moment, you need to stay in the room with Daddy and me, at least until you are able to sleep through most of the night without a feeding. (That might explain the weight, huh?) I don't like the solution we have right now, but you're staying in your playard on the bottom. I'm not sure you've noticed, but your mommy is on the short side. Leaning down into that playard to put you down and pick you up is not something she's going to stand for for long. Please work with us as we attempt to adjust your sleeping patterns so that you won't wake up the whole house for a feeding in the wee hours of the morning anymore.

All the sleep and food you have been getting lately, though, have turned you into quite a happy baby. You give all of us the biggest smiles when we look at you and coo and giggle regularly. In fact, I think those coos are the reason behind your big brother's name for you. You make sounds similar to "gaga" often. You have the biggest smiles for your daddy. I can't begin to tell you how special you make him feel when he walks into a room and you recognize him by immediately grinning and cooing. You even remembered him after he was gone most of last week on a business trip. You seemed truly glad to see him again.

I personally love changing your clothes, and not for the reasons you might expect. You enjoy getting your clothes changed, especially when I move to your chest to pull your clothes over your head or to snap or unsnap them there. I suspect you might be ticklish because you never fail to laugh when I touch your chest area. Just to warn you, you have many tickle fights in your future if you're that sensitive to it already.

Lately I haven't been able to help myself when I gaze down at you while you eat. I have been overcome with gratefulness that God chose to bless our family with you. You are truly special, and I can only hope that I can prove myself worthy of being your mommy.

I love you so much, my little chunk.

Mommy