My Baby's Average and I'm So Proud

Tuesday, we took the babies to the doctor for a well-baby check-up.  Everything went very, very well.  Whenever I take the babies out, I'm so proud of them.  They're so very well behaved in public.  Granted, I'm always punished when we return home and they realize they're schedule has been messed with, but I'll take it.  I'd rather have three ticked off babies in the privacy of my own home than with an audience present.  We get enough stares as it is.  I certainly don't want them accompanied by looks of pity.

Everybody got glowing reports from the doctor.  When little ones are premature, it is customary to refer to them by both adjusted age and actual age.  Their actual age is how long it's been since they were born.  Their adjusted age is how long it's been since their due date, or when they were supposed to have been born.  Our little ones are now 8 months actual and 5.5 months adjusted.  That means there are two separate growth charts to which they are compared.  As of our last appointment, all three of the babies have made it onto the growth chart for their actual age!   I am so proud.

Our big girl, Miss Keira, weighed in at 17 lbs 10 oz.  This puts her at the 54th percentile.  Average!  I have a baby that's average!  Lincoln man is 17 lbs 1 oz, putting him at the 18th percentile.  And tiny Violet weighed a hefty 14 lbs 2 oz, making her very first appearance on the regular growth chart at the 4th percentile.  It was all I could do to choke back the tears of joy.

When your babies are born premature, you constantly wonder if they will ever catch up.  Will they have developmental delays?  Will they have sensory disorders?  Will their muscles develop properly?  Will they ever learn to read, or talk, or ride a bicycle?  No matter how much you try to appreciate them as they are, it's virtually impossible to escape the cloud of worry that circles around in your mind.  I love them so much it hurts, and I will love them no matter what challenges they may have, but I can't help wanting them to have a typical life.  It's something that I pray about all of the time.

At 8 months old, they're not quite caught up with their full-term peers, but they're getting there.  They roll over, babble, and laugh constantly.  Recently, tiny Violet has learned to sit up unassisted.  They're loaded with personality and, except for being generally joyful little babies, they are all completely different.

Lincoln, Violet, and Keira with mom!

Circle time!  

On the move!

Keira Selene
She's thoughtful, analytical, and simple in her wants and needs.  We've always been able to decipher the intention behind her cries.  She's tired, hungry, or has a poopy diaper.  That's it.  Easy.  As soon as we walk in the kids' bedroom in the morning, her smile and giggle wipe away all of the morning grumpiness.  I wish that I could have half of the joy that Miss Keira has every single morning.

                    

Keira is her momma's little clone.  The first picture is me at 9 months, the second is Keira at 7 months.

Keira hanging out with her daddy.

  

Lincoln Nolan
He's our chill little dude.  He rarely gets upset about anything, which means he is often last.  He is becoming very practiced in the art of patience at a very young age.  Lincoln is 100% boy.  The moment you hand him a toy, his first inclination is to try to tear it apart with his giant man hands (seriously, his hands are disturbingly large for a baby).  You can elicit a smile and a laugh from him simply by looking in his direction.

Lincoln can feed himself!  

Just sitting here.

Won't be long before Lincoln's running around the house.!

Thanks to Mando and Amber!  Lincoln loves riding in the backpack!

Violet Layne
Sassy, opinionated, and passionate.  Whether she's learning a new skill, laughing at mom and dad being silly, or screaming in indignation, this girl commits.  Charming and social, she wins over the heart of each new person she meets while secretly providing challenge after challenge for her exhausted parents at home.  But every time she pushes us to our limits, she turns around and does something so sweet, it melts our hearts.

Let go, dad!  I got this!

One handed sippy cup.

Violet, the cat whisperer.