I wanted to tell you about yourself. Partly for your sake when you get older, but mostly for mine.
Today you are 37 days old. You are nearly 2 feet long, longer than most babies at your age. You aren't skinny anymore like when you were first born. You have the cute little tummy that all babies have - we call it a "toad belly." It's like the opposite of an hourglass figure: thin chest, wide tummy, tiny little butt. I love it. You weigh ten pounds, and my arms can tell the difference from the 7 pounds, 3 ounces you weighed when we brought you home. Your doctor says you're a healthy eater. You still aren't a fat baby though. I'm kinda looking forward to seeing little leg rolls on your thighs soon. You do have the chubbiest cheeks. They're perfect. Dad and I like to nibble them. I don't know if you like it, but we do it anyway.
We use cloth diapers on you. Well, kinda. They're adjustable and are supposed to fit newborns, but you seem to break the mold. We just started using them on you this last week once you hit the one-month mark. But your tiny butt and hips are too little, so they leak out by the thighs. There may have been an instance where you leaked poop on Dad's shorts...
You still have a full head of dark brown hair, though it has lightened somewhat since you were born. It has more of a reddish tint to it now as well. I wonder if it will become a pretty auburn color, or even a bright red like your dad's side of the family. Your hair is super-fine and sticks up all over your head. I try and brush it, but it still looks crazy. The only hairstyle we can attempt is a mohawk, since half your hair is already going straight up anyway. One of the coolest things is that you have two patches of white hair. There's a tiny one on the back of your head and a larger one above your right ear. It makes you unique and I love it. I hope you'll like it too and that you won't hate it when you're older.
Your eyes are still blue, super dark. I don't think they've lightened at all since you were born. Selfishly, I hope they stay dark like mine. You look so much like your dad, but I can claim those dark blue eyes as mine. I can claim those wide feet with all those toes that are the same length too. You might not appreciate those, sorry.
You are a happy baby. You don't mind being passed all around to twenty different people. In fact, you'll probably just go to sleep. You're a cuddler, happiest when you're snuggling up with someone, anyone. You get mad when we put you down in your crib, so we have to swaddle you super tightly so that you still think you're being held. We're tricky, I know, but I don't expect that trick to continue working much longer. You fight and fight to get your arms out of the blanket. But if you fall asleep with them out, then you wake yourself up by hitting your face. Not your smartest move, I'm afraid. You slept through the night twice this week, just long enough for Dad and I to get our hopes up. It didn't last.
You're a good baby, nearly always content. I'm afraid you might have a bit of a temper though. You yell at us if we don't get your bottle to you quickly enough. You go from super quiet and happy to mean and yelling in a 5 second time frame, which, guess what, is not long enough to heat up your bottle.
Your dad is much quicker when it comes to things like changing your diapers or getting you dressed. I'm a bit slow and you tend to get angry with me. At your pediatrician appointments, when we have to get you in and out of your clothes as quickly as possible to avoid screaming, I look to your daddy.
I can't believe you've only been here for a little over 5 weeks. I can barely remember what it was like before you were here. I love being your mom. I like to rub noses with you, and kiss your chunky cheeks, and nibble your ticklish feet. You keep me grounded and happy. When I feel discontent or uncomfortable in a social situation, I hold you and you bring me back to peace.
You are so very loved, Evelyn Mae. Your dad and I adore you, and everyone else who meets you thinks you're awesome too. Thanks for being my daughter.