I'm experimenting with a new pseudonym for la Petite, Mademoiselle. I don't know whether you all have been finding it as difficult to follow as I have found it difficult to type, but "le Petit" and "la Petite" seems challenging to me. Let me know what you think in the comments.
One month ago right now I was an hour away from going into labor. It feels like an eternity ago now, the final days of my pregnancy, and yet the last month has gone by so fast I'm afraid I missed half of it in the rush.
Mademoiselle has already lost the look of a newborn. She's more alert now, with none of the perpetual sleepiness of the first two weeks. She's no longer tiny, and her legs and arms don't look fragile and alien like they did at birth. She's already controlling and partially supporting her head, eager to look around and take everything in. Her movements are still jerky, however. She still shakes her head in random directions when she wants to nurse, and half the time she turns away from the breast instead of toward it, twisting the corner of her mouth wide open in search of the target.
I felt guilty that I was sitting on the couch writing a blog entry while Mademoiselle sat quietly alone in her baby seat. I can trust her to call me to order, however: she started to fuss, and now she's snuggling into my shoulder while I awkwardly try to type.
I'm barely getting enough sleep, or spending enough time with her, or paying sufficient attention to le Petit, or to my husband. But this month has been simply beautiful, and I know that's the only thing I'll remember (I hope).