Rocket fuel baby

On Monday I took O to the pedi for his one-month checkup and he weighed in at 9 pounds, 15 ounces! “What are you feeding him, rocket fuel,” she joked. Nope, just mama’s milk freely offered. Looks like he’ll eat anything, though.

I can’t believe my newborn is dissolving like a smoky illusion―gone is the gaunt line of his jaws and thin blades of his shins. They’ve been replaced by cheeks round like sticky buns. I’m enjoying each moment.

The sweet smell at the top of his head.

Cuddling with him tummy-to-tummy at night and during naps.

The way his nose wriggles when he latches on.