2 months / eyes nose and toes

Dear Noah,

You are amazingly two months old. You had your shots right on the very day and you hated that. You cried for about 5 minutes in the doctor's office, slept, and then had about a 20 minute crying jag at home - pain, I bet, but maybe also working off those feelings.

We spent a lot of time this weekend just holding you, skin to skin. You popped a fever, so we gave you Tempra and you weren't too sure about the taste but you let it go down.

You're 22 inches long and 11.5 lbs - right on the 50th percentile. Your eyelashes and eyebrows have been coming in again darker, and the eyelashes in particular frame those stormy blues magnificently. If your eyes stay the colour they are now they will be a steely blue limned with grey, the blue like your dad and the grey eerily like someone Lyria knows. And you use them constantly: you love to look and your attention span is amazing, spending up to 45 minutes watching a mobile or on your playmat.

Alley asked in the comments about your features and maybe you would like to know, too. You have the feet from your dad's side of the family: broad and thick and solid, like weights at the end of your legs. They're made to be used, as long as you can find shoes for them. And we will, when it's time. That's one of the differences between you and your sister: she had my narrow feet.

Your hands are really your own: I fancy that you have your dad's palms, strong and broad, but the long fingers are more like mine. We have never seen hands quite like yours, and that's where the joke that you will be a concert pianist comes from - strength and reach. But of course what you do with these hands will be up to you. Again, even accounting for baby fat, your sister's hands were narrower. You'r starting to use them a bit more, flailing them the way you're looking, sucking on your fingers. But you are still more the observer.

Your shoulders seem wide to me: man-sized already. But I may be projecting there, since I see you on your dad's so often. You are using your muscles to really work at holding up that head, although it's still a big struggle. At tummy-time you lift it up too and once or twice you've even braced with your arms.

Your chin and lips are mine: that set of the mouth that comes right down my maternal line, my mum's, her mum's, her mum's mum's. You're using it well already with so many expressions, but unlike the rest of us you don't chatter incessantly yet. You make some noises, but you save them up for when you really are excited. Your sister had it too, and when you sleep sometimes you fall into the open-mouthed position she had that last night and it catches at my heart, even as yours gets bigger.

Your nose identifies you with your dad's family again, and your sister: a pug-like nose right now, and I think it's adorable. The blonde hair is like both my mum's side and your dad's dad's side of the family, but I can't tell if it's really growing or destined to fall out. The crazy spikes are yours, although something like my sister's hair was around then too.

Your ears are funny. Your sister had both ears like your dad: a little pointy bit at the top giving an elven cast to them. You have one ear like that, and one like mine, rounded, so they don't really match at all. But they certainly work, and you love music - and jump at odd sounds.

When we saw the doctor you were gassy and grunting, which she pronounced as colic based on how often you do that. Now I thought colic was crying, so I thought it a bit silly, but if it is you manage it with tremendous good humour. I know your smiling is somewhat instinctive, but you do it a whole lot and it's gorgeous, like you. The doctor also thinks you're feeding too often - every 4 hours or so at night, timed start to start, and every 1.5 - 2 hours during the day. But I am not in a rush to try to change what your body seems to know. You have become a lot faster, which really helps me feel less chained to the rocking chair. But thanks to some over-active let down a few of those feeds have been a bit rough lately! We're working it out still, mostly using gravity or pumping a bit.

You've taught me a lot this last bit: I actually manage to sit still to play with you, and you need that. You're not a newborn anymore that way, and I'm learning to both let you be and play and play with you. You've also taken so much delight in doing things with me that I've started a bit of exercise alongside you, and been wearing you while I do a few chores, and even had you in the swing while I cooked. It's really nice to be able to do those things and chat to you. It's like learning them all over.

You are still the most beautiful boy in the universe.