The Wonderful O
Oct. 6th, 2004 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radegundOur fabulous son is now six weeks and three days old. He's grown out of his smallest clothes (newborn and 0-3 month sizes) and now weighs considerably more than 11lb 12oz / 5.3 kilos (in that this is what he weighed eight days ago; the rate of growth in the previous fortnight had been 1.5oz per day). He changes all the time - it's really fascinating to watch, if you're a besotted parent like us. We're totally in love with him. It's overwhelming.
Needless to say, we think he's gorgeous:
It's all too easy to project unfeasible complexity onto his infant mind, of course, but he does seem to know quite a lot about the world by now. He likes light and shadow - windows are great, and so are the walls and ceiling near lamps. He's always responded to music (particularly "The House of the Rising Sun" sung in a ridiculously low register). He usually stops to listen to vocal stuff, even when he's deep in a paroxysm of rage and tragedy. (All the choral singing he and I did before he was born is paying off...) He seems to recognise our faces, at least when they're the right focal distance from his own; he certainly knows our voices. He's even beginning to be interested in the babies who inhabit the various mirrors in our house. (None of them is as beautiful or accomplished as him, though.)
When he's tired, he cries in a squeaky little whimper, like an unoiled hinge, or in a dull, undulating wail. When he's hungry, it's a penetrating exclamation of need. In either case, if we don't get to him in time he progresses to a hoarse and persistent snarl, cracking on the high note. (Sometimes he actually cries "WAH!", which I find unreasonably cute.) His ultimate weapon, which really frightened us in the early weeks, is a sort of warp-spasm with battle-yell, which vibrates through the house and leaves him entirely breathless for seconds between waves.
His flailing is coming along nicely, as is his gurgling. He says "a-ghuh" and "ang" a lot, mainly to his stuffed toys but also to us. He's been giving us unmistakable smiles for a couple of weeks now (see photo above). Yesterday he and I spent almost an hour in conversation, and it was wonderful. When he's on the point of being fed, his head bobs excitedly and his eyes open wide in feverish anticipation - then half-close in drowsy contentment as he gets hold of the nipple and the milk starts to flow.
Breastfeeding was very, very tough at first, but it's OK now. The last wound finally closed at the weekend, which was a major relief. On the side that's been healed for longer, it's even felt nice a couple of times. Not in a sexual way, which is what I'd imagined (with some trepidation, be it said), but profoundly physical nonetheless. It's as though the milk is being drawn through my whole body, a warm tingle flowing from my toes and from the top of my head. I hope it gets to be like that most of the time, because it's lovely.
We're exhausted, naturally, and there are moments when I catch sight of myself in a mirror and think "what have I done? I want my old life back!" - it's hard to describe the extent to which everything changed on 22 August. But then I look at him, and he raises an eyebrow and waves an arm in a vigorous but entirely pointless gesture, and I'm smitten again.
Needless to say, we think he's gorgeous:
It's all too easy to project unfeasible complexity onto his infant mind, of course, but he does seem to know quite a lot about the world by now. He likes light and shadow - windows are great, and so are the walls and ceiling near lamps. He's always responded to music (particularly "The House of the Rising Sun" sung in a ridiculously low register). He usually stops to listen to vocal stuff, even when he's deep in a paroxysm of rage and tragedy. (All the choral singing he and I did before he was born is paying off...) He seems to recognise our faces, at least when they're the right focal distance from his own; he certainly knows our voices. He's even beginning to be interested in the babies who inhabit the various mirrors in our house. (None of them is as beautiful or accomplished as him, though.)
When he's tired, he cries in a squeaky little whimper, like an unoiled hinge, or in a dull, undulating wail. When he's hungry, it's a penetrating exclamation of need. In either case, if we don't get to him in time he progresses to a hoarse and persistent snarl, cracking on the high note. (Sometimes he actually cries "WAH!", which I find unreasonably cute.) His ultimate weapon, which really frightened us in the early weeks, is a sort of warp-spasm with battle-yell, which vibrates through the house and leaves him entirely breathless for seconds between waves.
His flailing is coming along nicely, as is his gurgling. He says "a-ghuh" and "ang" a lot, mainly to his stuffed toys but also to us. He's been giving us unmistakable smiles for a couple of weeks now (see photo above). Yesterday he and I spent almost an hour in conversation, and it was wonderful. When he's on the point of being fed, his head bobs excitedly and his eyes open wide in feverish anticipation - then half-close in drowsy contentment as he gets hold of the nipple and the milk starts to flow.
Breastfeeding was very, very tough at first, but it's OK now. The last wound finally closed at the weekend, which was a major relief. On the side that's been healed for longer, it's even felt nice a couple of times. Not in a sexual way, which is what I'd imagined (with some trepidation, be it said), but profoundly physical nonetheless. It's as though the milk is being drawn through my whole body, a warm tingle flowing from my toes and from the top of my head. I hope it gets to be like that most of the time, because it's lovely.
We're exhausted, naturally, and there are moments when I catch sight of myself in a mirror and think "what have I done? I want my old life back!" - it's hard to describe the extent to which everything changed on 22 August. But then I look at him, and he raises an eyebrow and waves an arm in a vigorous but entirely pointless gesture, and I'm smitten again.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-06 04:41 pm (UTC)Thanks for the insight...most interesting!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-06 05:22 pm (UTC)He is really lovely.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-06 11:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 01:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 07:42 am (UTC)Iseult
(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:17 pm (UTC)Um ... him, not me :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-07 04:59 pm (UTC)Have you had lots of puking actually? I've been meaning to ask, because my sisters puked all the time, to the point of Sibyl actually puking in my mouth a couple of times, but Indigo isn't a very pukey baby at all and I'm really shocked by the *lack* of it!
(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-08 04:43 am (UTC)You are unlikely to be overestimating his abilities at this stage; babies don't get given credit for half their intelligence generally. You, besotted as you are, are still his most close observer, and in the best position to judge.
Smit smit smitten... Yay!