Sunday's snow-storm lingers in the skinny branches of winter trees and on the white ground that surrounds us. It feels pure and promising--like a slate wiped clean. And I can't help but imagine you, six months old, in the sweater we've already collected for you, watching winter with new, pure, eyes full of promise. Sweet boy, the world is so beautiful and will be so much more beautiful, still, when you join us earthside. You're the size of a mango, your legs are longer than your arms and your body is starting to make a whole lot more sense in there. This week, you're developing more regular sleep-patterns. Yesterday, you did a lot of late-night fluttering so I'm hopeful we can get on the same sleep schedule! Sweet boy, you're using most of your energy to gain weight. I'm doing my best to help you! This week you also have start lungs on your to-do list. I can't wait to synchronize our breathing. We are a week from seeing you--and I am anxiously awaiting seeing your sweet little face.
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