Letters to Fraser: Three months

Dear Fraser,

I'm in mourning.

I packed up your bassinet and moved it out of our room today. You've been in your crib for three nights now. I really didn't want to move you, but you're just too long for that whicker cocoon. The first night was rough. I could tell you weren't comfortable with your new surroundings. To tell you the truth, I wasn't really either. I brought you back to our room for a few minutes, but then I realized that wasn't the solution. The next night was better, and last night you seemed to be back to your old soundly sleeping ways, waking up just once in the night.

You're very adaptable. It might take a little bit for you to settle into something new--like sleeping in a Pack N Play or a crib--but once you do, you're golden. We try not to be too rigid with our beloved little nighttime routine, but you still just love your bath and settling into sleep not long after.

And much like your first weeks, you continue to be a mover and a shaker. We had our annual sleepover with your cousin Hazel, and you rolled over during tummy time for the first time on her watch. You now roll both ways, which scares me half to death. I don't know if this is early or right on track, but there's something about the way you flail yourself all over the place that makes me wonder if we've got a bit of a daredevil on our hands. I just read that new parents should ask their parents what they were like as babies because often times the next generation baby will be similar in pattern. Well, I don't know how I was as a baby, but I do know my mom had to jump in a swimming pool with all her clothes on when I was a toddler because apparently I thought I could swim on my own. Lord, help me!

You're exercising your newborn reflexes less and less, and I hardly see your Frankenstein arms anymore. I've been crying a lot because I realize you really aren't a newborn anymore. I know everyone says the stages just get more and more fun, but I just loved watching you, holding you, and caring for you as a newborn. You must have sensed this or something because the other night when I finished nursing you, your eyelids fluttered, your eyes rolled back into your head, and you gave me those unconscious smiles that were the highlight of my middle-of-the-night newborn moments with you.

You know your mom and your dad, and you perk right up when Dad rolls into the house after work. You don't mind bopping around in your little chair while I make dinner, but sometimes you'd rather be worn in a wrap so you can really see what's going on. You know your dog, Bowen, and I'm sure you like it when he licks your face. Everyone in this house knows I sure don't.

We've been stuck inside a lot lately with this weather. We read and play a lot, and you've already picked favorites among your toys. You're no stranger to the cold weather, though, and you fall right asleep once you're bundled up and we head out for a walk.

I'm not sure what the next month will bring. You're so much more alert. You're using your voice, cooing, and letting us know when it's time for you to take a rest or eat. Every day is different with new excitement and challenges. We've been so blessed to see you growing and thriving.

I am so proud and thankful to be your mom, already, Fraser Mary.

Love,
Mom

Greenberg's birthday party sure looks different with all these kiddos now!

Your friend, Johanna, who is just two weeks older than you!

Your bestie, Ellery.

Cousin Audrey in your sweaters from Mimi.

Frosty and festive for Fraser's first Christmas

Fact: Cliches are cliches for a reason. 

Another fact: My writing ability is rapidly decreasing.

The holidays always come and go so fast, and having a little baby to help celebrate only seemed to speed things up this year.

Snow, sleet, and freezing conditions paid a visit to our neighborhood (and continue to do so), which made cozying up inside just a little more festive. We didn't let any of these things impart cabin fever, however, and Fraser's been a champ out in the elements. 

We spent Christmas Eve with my side of the family and Christmas afternoon with Taylor's, and we shared a special birthday brunch on Christmas morning with our friends Kurt and Laura and unborn baby Bolgen. 

Then, we packed up and headed north to the winter wonderland of Spokane for New Year's. Snow as far as the eye could see blanket the Lagreid's new "yard," and aside from a snowshoe jaunt for the moms, hunting for the dads and dogs, and a midnight sled run, we didn't leave the house.

On our way home, we hit rough roads, and we decided it was best to pull off and spend the night in Hood River. Fraser's first hotel room...and Bowen's second--that spoiled doggy.

Christmas Day at Nan and Bobby's.

Letters to Fraser: Two months

Dear Fraser,

We've been a family of three for nine weeks. I think I'll stop saying, "I can't believe you're ours," and "time is flying," because I know that's just how the rest of our lives together is going to be.

We took you to Sunriver for your first breaths of Central Oregon air. You loved it, and we loved snuggling up with you for morning and evening fires in the fireplace, long walks in the chilly, crisp air, reading, sink baths, mountain bike rides (for dad), your first visit to a brewery and cider house, the Grand Illumination at the lodge, visiting with Auntie Whitney (although you were quite fussy for her!), your first official "Rock pic," and Sisters Coffee on the way to and from.

You were, again, such a champ in the car. You love being on wheels--whether that's in the car or the stroller, and you're also a big fan of me wearing you, even though your head still isn't quite strong enough not to bobble around. You just love looking back and forth and all around. Especially outside. You're getting stronger every day, loving short bursts of tummy time, SMILING (!!!), enjoying being naked on the changing table, reading books, taking baths, and the sound of the door opening when Dad comes home from work (amen, I say, me too!).

We took you to Albany for your first Thanksgiving. Nana B gave you a funny turkey dress that might have been a pinch too small for you, but you wore it and made everyone smile. You were a happy baby for your grandparents, great-grandparents, and friends of your Nanny's. We loved celebrating Thanksgiving because we had you, our most precious gift, to be thankful for this year.

The very next day, we raced to pick up our Christmas tree before your first Apple Cup (disappointing outcome--that's all I'll say). We've gone to the same farm since our first Christmas in this house, and we hope we can continue this tradition throughout your life. I know you won't understand or remember Christmas this year, but it seems so magical having you here with us. I bought you a stocking that's bigger than you, and I took you to see Santa right before your two-month doctor appointment. He was a magical Santa, and you didn't utter a peep. We know next year might be a different story...

And let me briefly say that your two-month appointment was harder on me than it was on you, I think. I know you were the one to get three shots in your thigh, but I've never heard you cry at that octave, and the color of your face matched your red corduroy Christmas dress. We found out you're quite long (99th percentile) but not too heavy. Your legs and arms are quite skinny, while your cheeks and your belly seem to be chunking up. You're growing and changing every day, and you're certainly showing us your sweet personality. I don't like to tell people what an easy baby you are. It's true we're not doing a whole lot, yet, but I'm just savoring all the little moments.

Earlier this month, we met up with all the new babies from your birthing prep class. All the other families welcomed little girls, too, and it was quite fun seeing the other new parents. I took you to a new moms' group at the hospital, also, and I think we'll go again, and I also want to try the moms' group at the church in our neighborhood. Speaking of church, you like that, too. You sleep straight through. Maybe it's the fact that it's always quite warm--er, stuffy, or maybe it's the music, or maybe it's the sermon...those used to put your Poppi to sleep, too. ;) You don't really care what we do, I've learned, as long as you are well fed.

We're quickly approaching Christmas, and it's been cold and snowy here. I can't help but think about years to come when you want to race out into the snow and be the "first tracks" just like your dad said he yearned for as a kid. We're quite excited to get you into your Christmas dress and show you off at Christmas Eve service, pass you around the dinner table, wake up on Christmas Day together, share our first little family memories, and head on down to see your grandparents in Albany. I hope I never forget these "firsts" with you.

I do think ahead a lot, to what it might be like when you're a little older. Then I stop myself because I already can't believe how quickly you turned from a tiny newborn to a bigger baby with a budding personality. Soon you won't be our little Frankenstein, as I read you'll outgrow that reflex. And I'm wondering just how long your hair will stick up in the back. You might outgrow that hairstyle, but I bet we'll keep calling you "Rooster." Oh, and you're almost too long for the bassinet, which just breaks my heart. I'm not ready for you to be in your own room, even though it is just across from ours.

Please stay little as long as you can, my dear. I love you more than words can say.

Love,
Mom

Your first Rock pic!

Your first Thanksgiving!

Nervous throughout your first Apple Cup. Cougs didn't give you much to cheer about.

Meeting your friends Nora and Naomi.

Your nana brought up photos of your dad when he was a baby. We weren't sure before, but now we know. You're your daddy's spitting image.