Month Two

Dear Henry,

Today you are two months old and tomorrow, Mama returns to work.  In January, I was certain that 8 weeks would be enough time to feel good and be ready to go back.  Don't get me wrong, I feel great.  But last Sunday, when your Grandma Schmidt asked if I was ready to go back, I teared up like a big baby.  I'm am certain there is no maternity leave long enough for any mama.

You have changed so much over the course of the last four weeks.  For the first month of your life, you had three moods: asleep, "Grumpy Old Man," and INCONSOLABLE.  You now have a "happy," which is accompanied by the cutest, gummiest social smile I have ever seen.  You also are working on perfecting the pout you will inevitably use to get your way.  We have had riveting conversations that consist of a single vowel sound.  The onesies that fit so loosely just after you were born now make you look like a sideshow strong man.  You are becoming a pro at supporting your own gigantic head.  No really, it's in the 80th percentile - statistically speaking, you have a gigantic (and adorable) head.

You have developed a distinct hatred of wet diapers and will scream, not cry, but scream, as soon as you have peed.  The first few times you did this, I was certain you had broken all of your bones at once, or you were dying.  But no, just a wet diaper.  Don't get me wrong, I would be upset if I had to sit in my own urine, but the ear-piercing pitch you choose to use to say, "Excuse me, but my diaper is wet, could you please change it?" is nothing short of torture to those around you.

Speaking of diapers, at our very last appointment with the lactation consultant, she mentioned that the number of dirty diapers you had would start to decrease and you would possibly even go a day or two without pooping.  I think you interpreted this information to mean that you needed to save up ALL the poop for one daily gigantic, EPIC diaper explosion!  For the record, I don't think that is what she intended for you to do.

Tomorrow morning, I will drop you off with Grandma Schmidt and will likely cry on my way to the office.  I will only be there for a half day, but I will spend the entire time I am there thinking about you and what I am missing.  You will have so much fun with Grandma, Liam and Tootsie, but when I pick you up, we will have to squeeze all the missed cuddles and conversations and nuzzles and kisses into the few short hours before bedtime.  I hope you're ready, Mr. Henry, because there's a whole lot of love, and not ever enough time.

Love,
Mama