Dear Reese,
The doctor tells me you’re doing great. Everything is normal and on track at your 12-month check-up this morning. You weigh over twenty pounds now (at the 63rd percentile) and are 30 inches tall (over the 75th percentile). You smile while they listen to your heart and check your ears. The nurses and doctor fascinate you every time.
We can stop the formula altogether and go to whole milk. I won’t miss buying those 12-oz cans for $24.
He thinks you’ll figure out walking in the next couple of weeks. We’ll see, but you sure are trying.
You are a trooper for the shots. Four pokes this time, a cocktail of standard vaccines, including the one for measles. You recover so quickly, at least emotionally, and your teachers say you had a good day, though you slept extra long for your naps. Tonight you have a low fever, to be expected. Hopefully, the Tylenol takes the edge off so you can sleep.
Last night, you woke up after 2 am and I brought you into my bed for us to toss and turn together. It was a mistake, because my room does not have blackout shades, so you were wide awake with the sun at 5:30.
It’s okay. I have to remember there was a time when even six hours of broken sleep felt out of reach. You have spoiled me lately with restful nights.
Love,
Mama