You are 3 months old today. Even though you have only been a part of my life for a short time, you’ve had a remarkable impact upon it. You are my own little miracle, and I am honored to call myself your mother.
In a mere 3 months, you’ve grown from a tiny, vulnerable, 6 pounds 15 ounces to a happy, healthy 11 pounds. Every day something about you awes me, inspires me, humbles me. You’ve passed out of cradle cap, projectile vomiting and you’ve outgrown your newborn clothes. You can go three hours now between nursings (it used to be only two) and you can grasp a toy in your hand if we help place it there. You lift your head, tracks us as we move around, smile charmingly, and can even roll from your tummy to your back. Your eyes are still the gorgeous grey you were born with, though, and I wouldn’t mind at all if they stayed that way. Did I mention your fingernails grow like weeds? They’re like miniature lethal weapons, especially where my cleavage is concerned.
The weather is changing along with your growing self. In Greek, Chloe means “blossoming,” which is quite appropriate as the seasons pass from Autumn (your middle name), through winter, and soon into spring. I see evidence of it all around. I am looking forward to us learning and growing together, and fervently hope that I will be the nurturing guidance you need me to be as you continue to make your own way in this world.
Love forever my sweet girl,