Sam is three weeks old today. I can hardly believe it. In some ways, it seems that he has always been here. Rob and I are surviving long nights of feedings and diaper changes. Sometimes we sleep until noon. And we’re ok with that. (I think I am more ok with that than Rob is. Sleeping is one of the things I do best.) We go on outings. Sam has been to Target and Lowe’s and Toys R Us. If he ever wakes up for it, he will love going to the park, as he’s been there many times already. We assume that his sleeping through it is his way of showing high approval ratings. I know, you’re all surprised that he isn’t talking yet to tell us himself. 🙂
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this recently, but he is just so stinkin’ cute. He has a repertoire of faces that he makes. We, of course, have names for all of them. There’s “Little Mouth” and “Stretchy Face” and “Serious Face,” among many others. We are trying to capture them on film to share them with all of you, but it seems that Sam has a sixth sense for when the camera is pointed at him (even when his eyes are shut) and refuses to perform.
Sam has many names. He is Peanut (to Mom) and Buddy (to Dad), Monkey, Bunny (of all sorts — Sad Bunny, Fussy Bunny, Hungry Bunny, etc.), Stink Monster, Sam-Sam, Peeker, My Sam (from Mom) and Stinky/Fussy/Silly McGruder Pants (that’s from Dad). At some point, the kid is going to need therapy to combat the identity crisis we have created. He’ll get over it. In the next few years, he will sometimes be “Samuel Robert! No!” and that will garner three more sessions of psychoanalysis, but he’ll be fine.
As much as I miss sleeping through the night, I wouldn’t trade this baby time with Sam. I love that even the smallest whimper wakes me out of a dead sleep in the night. I love that he holds my thumb while he eats, and that when I pick him up to feed him, he stops crying, because he knows what’s coming (i.e. he trusts that we love him and will always protect and care for him). I love our routine before he eats. I say, “Are you hungry?” in the same high-pitched mother-ese tone and he looks up at me like, “Yes, woman, did you not see my hungry faces?” We always have a post-feed snuggle, whether it’s from me or Rob. As much as his growth and development is exciting and each stage will hold its own wonder, I will miss this high-needs infant time. I think neonates need such close contact not so much for their well-being, but to help the mom transition from holding life inside to holding life outside.
So, happy three weeks, Sam. It has been a joy, a great joy, to be with you and get to know you these last 21 days. You are, as the NHL commercial says, “The best baby in the world!” (<— Click here.)