4 Month Letter

Dear Linde,

You’re 4 months old now, and this last month has been amazing. I went back to work, and you started daycare. So far, I think the transition has gone well. You go to a place up the street anywhere from 1 to 4 days a week, and you’re the only baby in the infant room right now! All of the other kids are over a year old. I often wonder what you think about your days there. Do you like it? Do you wonder where I am? I know that for me, there is little better than seeing your smiling face when I come to pick you up.

Joe and Linde at C's Wedding

This month you went to your first Minnesota State Fair. You’ll probably do this every year of your life. I once flew back from college in Kansas, only a few weeks after I moved back down there for the year, just to go to the fair. Your Dad and I celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary on August 20th. We went up to Duluth, and you spent your first night away from us. Grandma and Grandpa Gove loved having you, and everything went off without a hitch. You also traveled to Dubuque, Iowa for my cousin Caitlin’s wedding. You wore the adorable dress Jenna gave you. Unfortunately, you were in bed before the reception, but everyone took turns staying in the room with you so your Dad and I could enjoy the party.

King Size Bed

At the hotel in Dubuque

We’ve been spending a lot of time outside. We take the stroller to the park, or just lay a blanket out on the front lawn. You can stare up at the leaves blowing in the wind forever. I love watching you discover the world. It’s funny for me to think about winter, and how you don’t even know what that is. You are completely unaware that those leaves will turn orange and fall. You don’t yet know what it means to be a Minnesotan, and how we will spend long days inside, safe from the icy chill of the winter air. Here we measure our lives not in months, but in seasons. We fret over how quickly they change, and how we might not yet have completed each one’s requisite activities. I think we did well this summer. The only major thing left off the list was camping. Before you were born, your Dad and I were all like “of course we’ll go camping with the baby, why wouldn’t we??” Ha. Sometimes I can barely make it to Target with you, much less sleeping in a tent in the woods. We’ll camp next year for sure. Now we’re moving into Fall. This season you’ll see your first apple orchard, carve your first pumpkin, and celebrate your first Thanksgiving.

Laying in the grass

Laying in the grass

You’re sleeping patterns have become a little inconsistent these days. I thought this would be harder now that I’ve gone back to work, but it’s not. Though sleepy, when I’ve spent the day at work I don’t mind getting up at night to feed you. Sometimes it’s my only chance to see you. As you sleepily eat, I push my lips against your cheek and breathe you in. It’s hard describe the feeling of utter contentment that overcomes me in these moments. I’d felt nothing like it until you came along. When you’re having a hard time falling asleep, I cradle you with your head in the crook of my elbow. You turn your face in towards me and you are instantly comforted. Sometimes I fall asleep there with you. I love those times.

First time in a lake at Nokomis

First time in a lake at Nokomis

We visited the neurologist who saw you in the hospital this month. She said you were meeting all of your milestones, and gave you a clean bill of health. She wants to see you again in a couple of months, and if everything is fine, she’ll sign off. Visiting Gilette Children’s Specialty Clinic, and seeing that doctor again brought up all kinds of emotions that I hadn’t felt since you were in the hospital. I think I realized how traumatic that experience actually was for me. In the weeks after you were born, I think I was both in a state of shock and too exhausted to really think about all of it. I’m only now starting to realize how close we were to actually losing you, and I can’t tolerate the thought for a second. Luckily, I don’t have to.

I love you so much that sometimes I think I might freak out. I didn’t know this much love was possible. Thank you for being you.

Love, Mom

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