Dear Scarlette,
You're currently asleep on my chest, which is pretty much the only place you can sleep without choking. Flippin' feeding tube. That means I am incredibly thankful for the reclining couch your great-grandmother bought us because it affords me a modicum of rest at night. That also means I am typing this with one hand, which isn't doing anything to help my propensity for typos. You're killin' me, smalls.
We're still in a pretty intense quarantine but I like to dress you up every day and take pictures as though we're going fancy places. I think you probably appreciate looking so cute. Nevermind that I've been wearing the same pair of yoga pants for the past three days. I actually did yoga in them, which makes that fact kind of gross. Keep that to yourself.
I bought you that plaid skirt the day I found out I was having a girl and then you were born just one month and a day later. Both of those outfits are newborn sized and still so big on you. But to me, you look like such a big girl.
I took you to the cardiologist and someone asked me how old you were. They stumbled over a response after I replied that you were five and a half months old and I realized that the rest of the world sees you so very differently than I do. Other babies look disproportionately large to me, which makes me think 5 months around preemie babies skewed my perception.
This week you hit a few 2 month developmental milestones and I am so proud of you. You've started grabbing things and holding on to them, which I thought was pretty much the equivalent of doing some sort of rocket science. You also started hitting the rattle on your play mat and smiling when it makes noise. It's such a purposeful action and I cheer you on like crazy every time you do it. You've also started bobbing your head to music. You're a big fan of Adele and Buddy Holly and sadly, Whip My Hair. Your aunt Miana introduced you to that one and apparently, it makes you turn your swag on. It's amazing to see you progress, my baby who we thought might not even breathe on her own right now.
You weigh 7 pounds 13 ounces and every time I look at you I think your GI doctor is crazy for labeling you "failure to thrive." You are thriving just fine.
I love you little bit,
Mommy
(i'm hosting scarlette photos at flickr in an effort to keep them from being shared w/out permission, feel free to add me as a contact so you can see more pics of here there!)
