You are one month old.
You are beautiful children. Your eyes are so dark that they are almost navy, and the swirl of your ears are reminiscent of seashells. You have full lips, both of you, hair like silk and your fingernails are tiny dots of pink. We think that you will both grow up to be handsome.
You are no longer the same babies as you were a few weeks ago; your eyes have focused and your limbs have unfurled. You are longer and heavier and your features are more defined. You seem to know your mothers, your small hands grip our fingers with such certainty. It seems early, but you have already graced us with your first smiles. Your periods of wakefulness last longer and you are beginning to show an interest in toys. You are fascinating. You are still so small.
I can hardly believe that I grew you. It is bizarre to think that you are the head that pressed out against my skin, the toes that uncurled against my ribcage. You share certain features with me, and yet it is hardly believable to me that I could be your mother.
Parenthood has come with its own set of challenges, but you are easy babies. You seem happy. You sleep well, both of you, and eat well too. You prefer breastmilk to formula and sleeping in our arms to sleeping in your crib. You like to babble at the dog; she seems to like you too.
Slow down a little. Grow slowly. We love the babies that we have right now, but we miss who you were a few weeks ago. There is a saying: The days are long but the years are short. The weeks are short. We are not ready to lose the yous that you are, just yet. Be our small ones for a while longer.