I look back at pictures of Ezra from the day he was born and I can’t believe it’s the same boy I now hold in my lap.
He’s roughly the same size as he was then, but his shape has already matured. His face has filled out and gotten rounder, and his eyes stay open for longer and have started to focus on our faces. We spend hours staring at him, wondering what kind of little boy and little man he’ll turn into.
On his first day alive, Ezra had twenty-one friends and family come to visit. In his first week at home he had just as many, maybe more. We love that he has so many fans out there, and we love introducing them into his life early and hopefully often. It’s one of our few explicit parenting goals to expose Ezra to as much as possible, to enrich his life through the variety of experience. We start with people.
We’ve ventured out of the house a few times, usually just a couple blocks to the store, me carrying him snuggled up and sleeping in the Moby Wrap. It’s fun to introduce him to strangers, and easy too: for some people, watching a newborn sleep is like mainlining the crack of cuteness. And the grocery store at 2 PM on a weekday is apparently where these folks congregate.
Near the end of the week, we caught a lucky break when his umbilical stump fell off a day before the bris. This meant we had a very small window in which we could give him a bath. (After circumcision, there’s another week or so of waiting.) I’m a bit of a hydrophile, and it wouldn’t be exaggeration to say I’m looking forward to bath- and beachtime with the boy more than almost anything. He seemed to enjoy his first splash, in as much as one can discern joy in a newborn’s face.
The week was capped off by a visit from Grandpop Peter, Alla and nine-year-old Uncle Marty. They drove all the way from Florida, and got to spend two afternoons cuddling and cooing with him.
We take all these pictures and write these stories down because we know it all moves so fast. Even so, it’s hard to believe how soon he’ll be past this newborn phase. I anticipate it with both eagerness and dread. On the one hand, we seize onto anything resembling a smile, even though we know they’re little more than involuntary muscle twitches. It’ll be so great when he’s producing them in earnest. On the other hand, he’s so tiny and cuddly and cute. We are enraptured. Who wouldn’t want it to last?
(Want more photos? Here’s a slideshow of everything so far.)