Ah geez. I've already fallen into the third-child-trap-of-neglect. Here she is, 2 delicious months old, and there's been no blog. Not even a measly birth story. Rest assured there is one written, in the pen ink of yore, in a baby book... so there's that. But I really need to get to documenting some things of the past few months, so let's get after it.
Abby, oh sweet sweet edible Abby! I could write for days about how you smell. Is it a last-baby thing? Because I truly do not remember getting high off your siblings' baby smell. Maybe this is why I do love to babywear you, putting the top of your sweet-smelling head right by me, to take hits from every 5 or so seconds. It's just this very distinct smell of I don't even know. Love? Joy? Life? You have considerably less hair than your bro and sis, especially on top (however, the back of your head is full of hair - baby-mullet in the making, I'm excited) so perhaps this lends to the smell being more potent? Less obstacles? Whatever it is, I soak it up all day, whiffing that head like it's my job. And the hair thing, it's funny. I had many ultrasounds with you (dilated kidneys they wanted to monitor monthly) and each and every time they commented on ALL that HAIR! Never once did a tech comment on your brother or sister's hair, and let me tell you, they had some hair. And you do not. Weird ultrasound conspiracies!
Lately, you've been smiling. And it is GRAND, oh my gosh. I don't think you can see very far still (I could easily google this baby factoid).. but when I come into your frame, like 18 inches from your face, you absolutely light up. You smile SO big and gummy and your start pumping your legs and oh my gosh it makes my insides hurt in the best way. You smile when Andrew or Avery comes over and talks to you, too. And now, at almost 3 months old, you belly laugh. Oh my. It's very very selective with when it happens, but almost always in the bathtub. When you're probably at your happiest. We finally got smart and had our recording device ready last night and I'm so glad. A little baby laughing is delicious.. but a naked fat baby laughing is just indescribable. I truly don't recall your siblings laughing this early--I think it was more like 4 months old... but you also do not laugh in response to the same ways we got them to laugh. We kiss your belly (the way we got them to laugh) and you look off into the distance with total boredom and a little confusion. But if we talk to you a certain way, man you double over. You laugh so hard and just like the last two first-laugh experiences, it's just the greatest. Does not get better.
By the by, I had saved the above few paragraphs in draft for a month, and you're 3 months old now. Yes I know. This is life with three, though. Things get saved in draft for a month. I'm watching you on the baby monitor right now actually, it's 6:40a, and you're swaddled in your Miracle Blanket, but kicking your legs up as high as they'll go and slamming them down. We call this sumo kick. Andrew & Avery just die laughing when I animate it as it's happening, as we all watch you draw up both your legs as I say SUUUUUMOOOO! And then as you slam them down, KICK!
What is there to say though? You're the best baby. Just, the greatest. The sweetest, most go-with-the-flowest baby there is. You have had some medical.. things. Not ISSUES, but just little blips. First was your lip & tongue tie. Which both of your siblings probably had as well, but I never was educated enough to do anything about it. Yer momma dun got smarter! And also, nursing you for the first 5 weeks of your life was like experiencing full body electric shocks of pain that made me curl all my toes each and every time, so there was a fair amount of motivation to get the problem sorted.
Then around 2 months old, we noticed a bit of flatness to the right side of your head. This sent me into red-alert full-throttle mode of MUST EVALUATE and get a gameplan because I did not want you to end up in a head-reshaping helmet. Yep. That is where my brain goes to automatically. Worst case scenarios. So we had to do a few things to get that sorted out, but it turned out to be a non-issue, thank goodness. Then around 2.5 months old, you had some blood in your poop. The pediatrician said it was textbook dairy allergy so I cut out all dairy. I consumed almond milk for you, child. Do you know what that is? Almonds. And SADNESS. These are all little things, but ya know, part of your baby history, so they should be noted somewhere.
As of right now, 3.5 months old, you are sleeping from 8pm usually until 6:30am when I come in to get you. Not because you're crying or anything, but I can see you on the monitor whipping your head around, still swaddled and immobile, but doing some hardcore sumo kicks nonetheless. I typically get Andrew up right beforehand because it's around his wakeup time and he loves to see you first thing in the morning. We both peer over, and you're the smiliest.
I just love you, my little chunk of love. We say you have some pretty nice marbling... your thighs being as dimply as they are, and I hope you remember that always, when you're a teenager and showing way more leg than you should. Once you were just a big ball of round delicious chubby baby, and life was so very good.
I hold you up by the armpits, up high in the air, and your shoulders are all smushed up into your neck and you couldn't possibly look rounder, and you laugh so HARD. You smile this huge gummy grin when I do this, and it's grand. Please give me fat grandbabies, someday. You needn't do anything else, but this. Because losing you, slowly, to the toddler-frame then to the trim little kid-frame I know is coming, is just too hard. I need a chubby again, and I'm depending on you. :)