pretty baby

He's hit his first awkward stage. Chuby cheeks, baby acne, horrible gas which causes him and me pain. He screws up his face and turns red all over and sqwirms in my arms. He's so heavy now but he seems to have gained all his weight in his head at the moment. I still love him of course but I miss his little perfect newborn self. He has his first scars of being human. A little diaper rash around his willy, poor boy. I feel like I failed him. Like he was perfect when I got him and he's been going downhill ever since. I guess that is what this being human is...this coming into a body. The other day I was explaining to him, through both his and my tears, that it's not easy, being human, but it will get better. I started explaining all the good things in life...jumping in rivers in the summer, campfires, leaves and apples in the fall...hot chocolate, hugs, christmas, music, a warm bath. As I was explaining all this he stopped crying and just stared at me, wide eyed. I'm sure that he understood some of it. It at least made me feel better. It made me feel like I could at least do something to help him when really I am just a powerless observer with milk filled breasts and arms that move him around.
He is asleep now. He is so quiet that I have to go to him and check him, make sure he is breathing and now he is awake. Susan, what have you done my dear. Here we go again. Here I come my pretty baby.