Oh Son...

Or "ah summ" as Charlotte would say.

Life with Elliot started out a bit trickier than I expected. I commented several times to Mitch that I was grateful he was our second, not first, because I had the perspective of truly how quickly the first few weeks would go by and how much things would change. And between the projectile vomiting, finicky breastfeeding, slower weight gain, five minute cat-naps and his general air of discomfort--it definitely helped to be able to remind myself how different everything would be before I even knew it.

"A newborn is not a one-month-old is not a four-month-old..." became my mantra. And so, for the most part, I took it all in stride and learned to be a bit quicker on my toes (and quick to shield the couch from projectile throw-up with my body...successfully, I might add).

And before I knew it, that newborn fragility began to fade ever-so-slightly and sure enough, after six-seven weeks, like magic our poor fussy boy turned into such a mellow little thing. The throw-ups became few and far between, he started to smile and coo, didn't mind sitting in his bouncy or lying on the floor as long as he could see someone, and started to develop a consistent nighttime sleep pattern. Almost as if he had finally settled into life here with us--just as we had settled into life with him.

Today Elliot moved up to size 2 diapers. He is getting really good at holding up his head. And he is just so long! My sweet little boy is growing up right before my eyes.

Often, after he finishes nursing, he looks straight up at me with the biggest gummy grin you can imagine from such a little guy. There are no words to describe that look on his face--it is all things adoring, grateful and kind. It's the best kind of thanks a mother could ask for. How I love my sweet boy. And that's just what he is--a sweet, sweet boy.