Letters to Oliver: 6 Months

Dear Oliver,

You are now six months old.

You are such a pretty little Biggie. Really, just gorgeous. MAYBE I'm a little biased (maybe), but as I sit here putting together this letter and going through all the pictures from the past month I find myself gazing at them - at you- in wonder. So chubby! So rosy-cheeked! So smiley! There's something soulful about your eyes. They have remained a mix of blue, green, hazel, gray, and brown. Your Grandma said they look like the Earth, and you know what? They kind of do. Earth eyes. Why not?

How about some stats? You are 21 pounds and 28 inches - I can't remember exactly where those fell percentile wise, but I believe above 90th for both. Your head remains enormous and off the charts and therefore you still have a noticeable soft spot. Your gigantic cranium comes from your father, as does your size and looks in general. I wanted a baby boy that resembled his daddy and here you are.

Your new skills include sitting up on your own...

Don't mind your sister in this picture.

and allllllllmost crawling. You spend half your day on all fours, getting ready to take off. You rock back and forth a few times, then collapse and repeat.  In the meantime, you use a mix of rolling, wiggling, and army crawling to get where you want to go and you are remarkably quick. Just yesterday I set you down on a blanket and walked to the other side of the room to grab something and by the time I returned 20 seconds later, you had up and rolled yourself in the blanket and wiggled under a chair. The fact that I've begun to use safety gates for you seems crazy, but you really are so fast.

 

This week I was looking over the blog posts I wrote while I was pregnant with you because I wanted to see what I had said about your movement in utero. (I purposefully spared you any "in my womb" reference there as I picture you reading this at 25 and thinking, "MA! Gross!")  I noted time and again how much movement I felt and it got to be quite painful in the last months. So it's not surprising that you are still so active. Even when someone holds you in their arms you are lunging and jumping and attempting to stand most of the time. Moving, moving, moving. At 21 pounds this can be quite the work out for whoever is holding you.

I speak from experience. Because even though you might act like you want to jump out of our arms, you still really love being held, even more so recently. And so I have been holding you, or putting you in the carrier, much of the day. You also notice when I leave and your face gets a little pouty, which is adorable. You love me, Biggie! You really love me!

Speaking of love, this month held a couple incidents where I realized just how deeply I've grown to love you. How very much you are an integral part of my world. The first was when we were at the pediatrician for a thrush follow up and they recommended Gentian Violet again. It's a purple dye and they wanted to administer it in the office. I agreed, even though we had some at home as I figured they would do a better job than I would when it came to applying it in your mouth. But I figured wrong. The nurse seemed to be using too much and it was getting everywhere and you were turning your head back and forth and sputtering and I was about to grab you and make a run for it. Someone was hurting my baby and HELL NO. But by the time I was going to stop the nurse, it was over and then I brought you home looking like this.

You were just fine, albeit ridiculous looking, but I was left feeling a little shaken. It had been hard to see you so upset and I felt badly that I had put you in that position in the first place. So we spent an extra cuddly afternoon and you threw up purple milk on me and in the end it all turned out okay.

Then yesterday there was another incident. We were back at the pediatrician's office for your 6 month check up and several factors collided in a way that gave me a feeling of cold fear. I had already been feeling a little anxious about a blue bruise on your bottom ("MA!") that had been there for two months. I had been monitoring it and had called about it previously, but the feedback was always just to watch it and call if it became worse. It never got worse, but it never got better. Then at the start of the appointment, the nurse initially weighed you at two pounds less than you had been at 4 months. The "weight loss", your bruise and the lingering thrush sent my imagination into overdrive. I mentioned my fears and the nurse practitioner we were seeing offered to run a blood test, just to be sure, and I agreed to have that done.

But thankfully, oh that word "thankful" seems so weak here, you were just fine. The re-weigh showed you had gained normally since 4 months and the NP called later with good news: not only did your blood work come back normal, but that bruise on your bum? A Mongolian Spot! A benign blue-tinted birthmark that is very common for much of the world, including those of East Indian descent. Another thing you get from your daddy's genes.

After getting that phone call, I broke down in tears. You were upstairs napping, but Bella, sweet, little 2.5-year-old Bella hugged me and patted my back and then went and got a kleenex and dried my tears. The relief I felt was tremendous and the tears were a reflection of that. You, your happiness, and your health are paramount to me and I just want the best for you.

So, I love you, Biggie. Truly, madly, and deeply.

Love,
Mama