Nine Months In, Nine Months Out
July 15, 2009
Ezra had his nine-month well-baby appointment today, where it was brought to my attention that my baby is NINE FUCKING MONTHS OLD. I've now officially had him in my arms for as long as I had him in my womb.
And during those first nine months, Jason would often rub my belly and talk to it, and mention his growing impatience with the whole gestating process (GET IN LINE, BUDDY), and his eagerness to meet "this little guy." Who was he, this new hypothetical boy? What would he be like, once he was here?
We know those answers now, of course. He is our Mighty Ez, our Baby Zee, our Ezzie Man. He is awesome. Truly, honestly, just beyond awesome.
He is a mimic, a charmer, and a flirt. He knows the power of his smile. He will wave and clap and tilt his head coyly to the side until you pay attention to him. If you ask for a kiss he will give you one, along with some tongue and a delighted giggle. Everywhere we go, people stop to stare at him, to talk to him, to delight in his cheerful good nature and marvel at his perfectly round head. Adorable, they exclaim. Cherubic. Angelic. Delicious.
"I know," I say. I don't mean to be obnoxious, but come on. I KNOW.
(Do not lend this baby any money.)
He can crawl now, I suppose, officially, though it's certainly not a pretty crawl -- a combination tummy scoot with extended leg propulsion sort of maneuver, though occasionally he gets everything working together in a slightly more dignified manner. He can get up and over the step in our living room and is a far more proficient stander-upper.
He loves remote controls, toothbrushes and anything that makes a lot of noise. Drums are particularly thrilling, especially when combined with a toothbrush or two.
He is the happiest, most personable, best behaved baby I have ever met. He is -- I'm so sorry -- easy. Sometimes I wonder if I switched to cloth diapers and shunned the jars of Gerber just because I felt like I needed the challenge.
He loves his big brother more than anything. He thinks his big brother is the coolest. His big brother thinks his baby brother isn't half bad either. When Ezra cries, Noah does everything he can to cheer him up. "Don't cry, Ezra!" he'll say, while gently patting his head. When Ezra inevitably starts getting in Noah's way and grabbing at his toys, Noah will patiently find an alternative toy to offer him. Sometimes they just sit and laugh and laugh and laugh at each other, just happy to be making the other one happy.
During those first nine months, I knew I was having a boy, despite never really quite getting a definitive look during our ultrasounds. I still just knew, somehow. I dreamed of a baby boy mere days after the positive pregnancy test and just knew he could not be anything other than another boy. Though some part of me probably just hoped for another boy because that would mean another Noah, another good baby, another of the exact same thing so I would know what I was doing this time.
Obviously, it doesn't work like that. And I'm so glad, because it's the differences that have made getting to know this little guy such a delight, and have made these last nine months so sweet and full and noisy and chaotic and rich.
Weight: 19 pounds
Height: 28 1/4 inches
Head circumference blah dee blah: 18 inches