Dear Noah,

Tomorrow you will be 3 months old.

I can hear you breathing, as I listen through the baby monitor while I type. You’re a loud sleeper, frequently making restless little cries and funny gasps. Sometimes you flail your arms and legs so much we can’t believe you’re still asleep. But you are. Seconds later, you’re still and quiet, arms flung over your head, body at rest.

Sometimes now, when you wake up, you’re content to hang out for 3 or 4 or even 5 minutes before you’re upset that you’re still alone.

We still aren’t sure what color your hair is, or your eyes are. Your hair looks blond in some light, gingery in others, brown in the back and where the last vestiges of cradle cap make it a little bit greasy almost instantly. Your eyes more often look hazel than any other color, but sometimes they look grey, and in your little Packers outfit yesterday, they looked distinctly green.

Your body and skills seem to grow every day. Two weeks ago, when Dr Madelaine was visiting, you had the neck control and strength of a weathered bobble-head doll. You could hold up your head, sometimes for minutes at a time, but it generally waved and swayed, and you rested it pretty often. We measured you that weekend, at 11 weeks & 1 day old, and you were 25.5 inches long.

Last week, when Aunt Anna was here, your head still bobbled, but not quite so much, except when you were tired. We weighed you, 12 weeks after you were born, and you weighed 15 lbs. It already seems more stable than while she was here, and that was only a few days ago.

We’ve packed up about half of your 3-6 month clothes, and are debating cutting the feet off of the zip-up pjs in that size.

You smile a lot now, especially when you see one of your mommies for the first time in awhile. It melts me in the morning. I say "Good morning, Noah!" and see you try to focus. The second "Good morning, Noah!" usually gets your attention, and when your eyes find mine, you grin your wonderfully infectious baby grin.

And you talk. Tonight, you sat on my lap, gurgling, babbling, and cooing conversationally. When you paused, I’d agree, or ask if you really thought that, or explain that mommies need to eat too. You grinned and babbled back at me.

Over the last two weeks or so, you’ve started laughing. At first, I wasn’t sure that’s what you were doing, but sometimes when I laughed, you made a similar sound back at me. After a few days, it was clearly laughter.

On Saturday night, you laughed at me for the first time. It was wonderful! (Remind me that I used to think that when you’re in 7th grade.) I was sitting with you, eating my dinner. You watched intently, facinated. I made an exaggerated devouring sound as I chewed, and you thought it was hilarious, laughing and grinning. I did it a few more times, and you just loved it.

(Tonight, I tried that again with pizza, and it kept you from screaming till I’d eaten a slice and a half!)

Noah, my little love, you wear your mommies out. We’ve been tired and stressed out a whole lot this month. But when you grin that giant, drooly grin, even when the grin is through your best efforts to get all 10 of your fingers into your mouth simultaneously, we have a whole new understanding of what love is.

love,
Mommy