Four Months

For four months now we have been given the opportunity of raising Ivan. He is certainly a pleasure to have in the house and I can’t begin to tell you how quietly his charm has crept into my heart and taken hold of me.

My Ivan

He is now:
smiling and laughing with adorable chuckles and gurgles.

When I sing to him he tries to sing back to me.

He is beginning to reach out to grab at the toys dangling from his play mat.

He is just starting to use his legs to push himself a little.

When laid on the floor on his belly, he holds his head up to look around for long periods of time. If he gets angry in this position he will squirm until he is completely spun around and his feet end up where his head was. (he is of course screaming non-stop through this process)

He has been sleeping through the night with an occasional cry for want of his pacifier, but no more feedings in the middle of the night.

He is approximately 14 lbs. and 25 inches long and very healthy.

Ivan the Stouthearted

Yesterday I got a glimpse of the man inside my little baby. It’s funny to me how as a parent you grow to know your children so slowly, how you wait to see who they will be with each reaction they perform and each expression they give. Deep inside that little tiny infant, who for the first few weeks did nothing but sleep and eat, is a man or a woman who will have opinions, preferences, tastes and attitudes. You hope against hope that they will be good, that they will be admirable and that you will not only love them instinctively but that you will like them for the person that they are. I am constantly searching my boy’s habits and expressions for a sign of their true personality. Sometimes it is obvious in the womb, sometimes it is only truly revealed when they begin talking, and with all, I am sure no parent gets a whole picture until they are past the age of childish things and have become the man or woman they will be. Even the teenage years are clouded with hormones and emotions that continue to shape and mold the adult. However, every now and then, you see something, just a peek mind you, but something tells you, that’s who my baby really is.

Ivan had a bad tummy ache yesterday. His cries were obviously cries of pain and his arched back, tight belly, and occasional burps told the story. I gave him drops, held him, squeezed him, laid him on his belly and sang him songs to help to ease his suffering and he was helped and he did get over it but in the midst of it all I saw him smile. My brave little man lay on his back so that I could straighten his bunched up blanket and as I smiled and teased him as I usually do he tried so hard to respond with his usual giggles and coos. His face was red, his brow furrowed and his tears were sliding onto each temple as he looked at me and a grin spread across his face. His attempt was short lived as an obvious wave of pain passed through him again and his legs kicked out and his arms drew in. He looked at me again and tried to smile, but the pain was too much and he cried pitifully instead. Poor, sweet, baby boy…strong, brave little man you are.