I caught a fifteen pounder

This has been a great week with Michael home to help with Isaiah and to give me company. I'm so thankful that he can spend more time with his baby boy, because it's shocking to see how quickly Isaiah grows and changes.

When Isaiah was first a new, newborn, I remember calling my mom and crying because I was so sad that he was going to grow and change and eventually not be my little baby anymore. I remember thinking that no stage could possibly be as wonderful as the one I was in at that moment, when Isaiah was as tiny as could be. He slept in my arms and hungrily ate every hour. He needed me (or Michael) every minute of the day, and he was so marvelous to look at. My mom assured me that it would only get better as he grew and developed, and that every little new thing he did would be so exciting. I didn't believe her one bit, though, and I cried some more. I think my rush of post-pregnancy hormones had something to do with the breakdown, but I was truly sad at the thought of my baby growing up.

I can say now, though, that my mom was right. Every day seems to be better than the day before, and I love watching Isaiah's personality emerge and unfold. I love seeing him smile, and I love playing with him. It's amazing to watch him as he learns something new, and I'm always excited to see what will come next. Being a mommy is great!

Speaking of growing - Isaiah weighs at least 15 pounds now. Michael weighed him on our bathroom scale last week because both of our arms were aching from carrying our baby sumo wrestler around all the time. On the one hand, I was shocked that Isaiah had doubled in weight since his birth. On the other hand, my arms and back had already let me in on that secret. Not only does he weigh more, he wiggles more, so he really puts your hold on him to the test. He really likes to wiggle and kick when I'm holding him over the toilet. I know it's only a matter of time before he wiggles at just the right moment and pees on the ceiling. Oh well. At least I know it's coming.

Isaiah is becoming a very impatient nurser. I express enough milk for one bottle a day for him so that Michael gets a chance to feed him. Now, though, he seems to prefer his bottle over me. When he gets hungry and I try to nurse him, he pulls back crying and screaming more angrily before. I'm pretty sure it's because it takes a few moments for me to let down my milk, and he's gotten used to it coming at the very instant he starts sucking with a bottle. I'm not quite sure what to do about this, but it's not fun at all. Sometimes, if he's already eaten his bottle, we'll even feed him a little water to get him calm enough to actually nurse. I really want to continue nursing him, so I'm hoping this is only a phase. At other times of the day, he still loves to nurse, so I'm pretty hopeful it will pass.

Even when something difficult like this comes up, Isaiah will do something else that is wonderful and endearing that completely makes up for any hassle. Yesterday, he talked to himself in the mirror for at least ten minutes, which was absolutely adorable. He's also playing this game where I hold his hands and he goes from a sitting to a standing position and then grins. Then I plop him down on his little tush and say "plop," and he grins again before trying to stand once more. We could play for hours.

Next week he'll be getting his second round of immunizations and an official weight check. I hate it when they poke my baby.