Take my breast away...

She’s found both hands now. She’s trying to aim and suck on the right one. She has this gesture where she holds her right hand in her left tapping all of her outside hand fingers, holding both under her chin. It looks like she’s thinking, planning something that will shock the hell out of us all.

She also verbalizes. Not grunts like “more, more, I want more!” No not Emma, that would be too baby-like for her. She watches you talk, focusing in on her lips, then carefully shapes her own mouth a few different ways before trying a tentative “oow” or “haiii.” When you laugh and talk back, she tries a little more until she ends up in an out-loud smile. Conversations with her are some of life’s highlights.

We started her on the bottle during the day today. She cried a little each time we tried to feed her, but mostly just didn’t eat much until 4:30pm—12 hours after her last breastfeeding session. Then we put a bottle in her mouth while I was holding her upright on my shoulder. Grandma gave her a bottle from behind me and, what do you know, she drank…the most I’ve ever seen her drink from a bottle—3 ounces! After leaving grandma’s house for some grocery shopping, we gave her a bath and I gave her my milk before bed. She started out hyper, wiggling and burying her face into me, like she was trying to swim inside the milk. Then after five minutes, she started falling asleep. But every time I tried to pull away, she woke up, sucking with fervor as if to say, “No, no, no, not yet! I’m not done yet!”

The mr. and I have decided that she’s a serious baby. She looked at us with serious eyes most of the day, and tonight, when she fell asleep, she still looked serious. Content, but serious.