My child; my little, tiny, six-pound-peanut of a newborn is ten weeks old today... and I am racking my brain trying to figure out who is sitting on the fast-forward button of my life's remote. And how can I get them to stop?
Evie's two-month checkup was yesterday. I have never wanted to physically harm someone so much as I did when that nurse (who I am sure is an otherwise completely pleasant human-being) plunged three needles into my angel's leg. I'll be honest: I cried significantly more than Evie did. She is the bravest little girl in the whole world... which just reminds me, yet again, of how BIG she is getting.
When she came home from the hospital, Evie was 6 pounds... now she is 10 (which puts here in the 28th percentile for weight). She has slept completely through the night for the past five nights in a row, for which my pediatrician tells me I should be counting my lucky stars. Every night and twice on Sundays. I totally am.
Annnnd I am headed back to work today. Completely bitter-sweet because, on the one hand, I am really excited about having an excuse to shower and get dressed and get out of the house to talk to people who can say more than "coo" and "urgggle" (even though those are the sweetest words I have ever heard). On the other hand, though, what if I miss something?!? I mean... not to over-exaggerate here, but if I am not there for the first time she rolls over or sits up by herself the world will completely implode on itself... and that will be absolutely no good for the environment.
Can you believe how much she has changed?!
Evie on the way home from the hospital. 6 pounds, 19 inches long.
Evie on her 10-week-birthday. 10 pounds, 22 inches long.