<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:06:39.259-05:00</updated><category term='worry'/><category term='pictures'/><category term='doctor'/><category term='PCOS'/><category term='big baby'/><category term='maternity leave'/><category term='baby shower'/><category term='Pregnancy'/><category term='ultrasound'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Egleston'/><category term='Thanksgiving'/><category term='growth'/><category term='perfect baby'/><category term='twins'/><category term='amniotic band'/><category term='gestational diabetes'/><category term='heartburn'/><category term='max'/><category term='old wives tale'/><category term='Braxton-Hicks'/><category term='family'/><category term='miscarriage'/><category term='contractions'/><category term='sewing'/><category term='work'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Letters to 'A'</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4044230925765215118</id><published>2011-05-09T21:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T21:37:01.458-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sassy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z2NzQ_p9eEM/TciWn8FLrQI/AAAAAAAABKE/PRgnRtqa_dY/s1600/207189_10150220610342578_757982577_8789230_5996682_n-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z2NzQ_p9eEM/TciWn8FLrQI/AAAAAAAABKE/PRgnRtqa_dY/s320/207189_10150220610342578_757982577_8789230_5996682_n-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604895349149510914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;You are two now and there are some days when you act like a two year old.  Your favorite word right now is "no."  The other night we were eating dinner together outside on the back porch.  You got restless, turned around in your seat on your knees (which is not allowed while eating) and proceeded to wipe your lasagna-covered face all over the back of the chair.  I asked nicely, "Aiwyn, please turn around and sit down."  You, "no."  "Aiwyn, turn around and sit down.  You will only have one more warning."  "No."  "Aiwyn, this is the last time.  Turn around and sit down or you will go to time out."  "No."  "Ok.  You are in time-out for not listening to mommy and telling me no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your time-out are two minutes long and I time them on my phone.  I didn't have my phone outside with us.  About the time that your two minutes were up, you started to slide out of your seat.  As you did so you said, "I, naughty."  Then you came up to give me a hug and said "sorrey."  It was hard to keep a straight face.  You really are a sweet girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4044230925765215118?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4044230925765215118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4044230925765215118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4044230925765215118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4044230925765215118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2011/05/sassy.html' title='Sassy'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z2NzQ_p9eEM/TciWn8FLrQI/AAAAAAAABKE/PRgnRtqa_dY/s72-c/207189_10150220610342578_757982577_8789230_5996682_n-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-5255840680403997851</id><published>2010-07-06T23:48:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T23:53:48.850-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiss</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Just a few days ago you learned to keep your mouth closed and make a kissing sound when you kiss. You amaze me daily. It makes my heart fill with love, joy and pride every time you do something new. And this new kiss is the sweetest... I try to get multiple kisses from you each day. I love you our sweet child.&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-5255840680403997851?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/5255840680403997851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=5255840680403997851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5255840680403997851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5255840680403997851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2010/07/kiss.html' title='Kiss'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-3500595880707618832</id><published>2010-03-19T21:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T21:39:25.198-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Alright</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;You are magical every single night.  When you lay your sweet little head on my shoulder or chest and we rock together after you nurse you make my world perfect.  All the stress from the day melts away.  Even the poop in the bathtub after a crappy day at work is now better.  Tonight you were even humming a sweet little "mmmm" sound of contentment.  I love you.&lt;br /&gt;Mucho, &lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-3500595880707618832?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/3500595880707618832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=3500595880707618832' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3500595880707618832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3500595880707618832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2010/03/alright.html' title='Alright'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-3497161711902711486</id><published>2009-12-02T00:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T00:18:15.929-05:00</updated><title type='text'>9th and 10th Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;A href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/S0AdbYuxjjI/AAAAAAAABJY/pG_sooF5TF0/s1600-h/IMG_2175.JPG"&gt;&lt;IMG style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422366307686387250 border=0 alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/S0AdbYuxjjI/AAAAAAAABJY/pG_sooF5TF0/s320/IMG_2175.JPG"&gt;&lt;/A&gt; Dear Aiwyn, It's official. You have been out of my belly longer than you were in it (especially since you only stayed in 37 weeks). For me, your ninth month was one of the most difficult months of your life. You are so much fun and changing every day. I hate, HATE not being able to see all your firsts. It has been a struggle to peel myself out of bed from you in the mornings since I started back to work, but now it seems worse. I get some of your milestone updates via Facebook status updates or text messages while I am at work. You started crawling this month and I was in an Excel class for work and your Pops sent me a text. Work has been very busy and stressful which is good because my mind is filled with things other than you and how much I miss you. But it's bad because I'm stressed. The stress and guilt of not being with you had manifested into strange things. I'd left your Pops and Grandma notes about how to "do things" or "things to remember." I guess it was making me feel like I still had some control when my emotions were out of control. I'm lucky that they both just take it stride. I've had a hard time making your 9 onesie this past month. Making it feels difficult. Like making the onesie just confirms that you are getting closer to a year. I mean you are 3/4 of a year old. I also really enjoy being the one to take your "month" pictures to post and since I got behind I keep thinking, I'll do it on the weekend so you can wear it and I can take the picture. I still haven’t made your 10 yet, but I will and I will get pictures of you in it! I wanted to make sure your 10 month letter was written. Most of the first four paragraphs of this letter are from your 9 month letter that I never finished. You have a total of 8 teeth now. 5 of the eight have came in the first 19 days of November. You have been a champ about all that mouth movement. Grumpy Aiwyn is like a completely blissful regular baby. We can tell you don't feel good and you nah, nah a little, but you never REALLY fuss. I took you clothes shopping at the outlets with Grandma and you were so good. Grandma was so shocked that you were the perfect baby all day long. She sees you daily, but doesn't really take you out. You stayed in your stroller pretty much the entire time and at the end of our shopping trip, you fell asleep... again shocking Grandma that you were so tired, but didn't fuss. We were having a difficult time nursing during your ninth month. You are VERY distracted and unlatch several times. It also seems you are impatient for the let down and you unlatch, roll away and nah me. The last week you have been doing better nursing. I let you unlatch and roll away and then you come back when you are ready. It seems you just didn’t like it when I tried to latch you back on. I’ve also noticed that you rub your gums with your tongue when you unlatch. I think the pressure of nursing makes your tender gums sore. I was really frustrated and a little sad because I thought you were weaning yourself. I wasn’t ready to stop nursing you. It is a sweet cuddle time we have together and I cherish it. Thank goodness it has gotten better. We celebrated two Thanksgivings this year, one with each set of local grandparents. You got to eat turkey, mashed potatoes, and a roll (well not a whole one). Your Aunt Susan, Uncle Rick, Ben, &amp;amp; Olivia were here visiting from Chicago for the week. You had so much fun with all the cousin chaos. The boys were running around like madmen (and so was Olivia) and Olivia was giving you lots of hugs and kisses. I regret not spending more time with them. Nana, Great-Aunt Gina, and Shelby were here for a weekend. You even got to see your Grandmama, Great Unga, Uncle Chris, Great Aunt &amp;amp; Uncle, and Emily over Skype the morning of Thanksgiving. &lt;A href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/S0Adaklw2tI/AAAAAAAABJQ/sIz0uOiZ3Lw/s1600-h/IMG_2169.JPG"&gt;&lt;IMG style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422366293689948882 border=0 alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/S0Adaklw2tI/AAAAAAAABJQ/sIz0uOiZ3Lw/s320/IMG_2169.JPG"&gt;&lt;/A&gt; Two days ago you said your first two syllable word “dada.” You started off just moving your mouth up and down and mouthing it for a little while like you were warming up. Then all of a sudden “dada!” It is so sweet. I love it. I love all your sweet baby sounds. Which now has me thinking about you laughing and squealing. At night when I change you into your pajamas, I sit you up on your changing table to change your shirt. As soon as your shirt comes of you start pumping both your straightened arms up and down and then comes the “hee, hee, hee” sound. The giggling can’t be contained when I start singing “naked baby, naked baby.” Then I give you kisses all over your back and belly and you squeal! So much fun! You can “kiss” when asked. Except you only kiss when you want to. Your kiss is a nice wide open mouth and usually some drool to keep you wanting more. Your crawling has improved even though it is still unique. Your arms are in the army crawl movement but your legs are in a lower crawl. You get on your knees and alternate between the knees, but you don’t get all the way up because you’re still on your forearms. Today I took you to see an allergist. I was thinking your hives that you had a few month ago were from the yogurt and you may have a cow milk protein allergy. I had brought it up at your 9 month well child check-up to your pediatrician and after checking your hemoglobin that was low, she thought it would be a good idea to be tested. The allergist is board certified in pediatrics and allergy/immunology. I think he really likes children and when he saw you he wanted to hold you (who doesn’t, right?). You were a little scared and didn’t want to be held by a stranger. But you weren’t stingy with your smile. You had at least 16 foods of a skin prick on right forearm. About 4 of those (milk, casein, fresh milk, &amp;amp; almonds) were a possible positive. So you then had to have 6 more needles in your left forearm (they had to have 2 controls: histamine and saline). After the second arm, the doctor decided you didn’t have enough of a reaction to call it a positive skin prick test but he wanted to have an antibody blood test to be sure. You didn’t even make a peep during both skin prick tests. Before we left his office, you let him hold you for a few minutes. I think you made his day! We then went to the lab at CHOA to have your blood drawn. We also checked your CBC, transferrin, and ferritin levels which all together required 4 tubes of blood! The first 2 tubes you were ok, but by the time the nurse was filling the third, you had reached your limit. You had missed your morning nap and this lady had a tourniquet on your arm and had your wrist and hand in a death grip so much that your little hand was purple. You fussed. I thought you were going to have a full out FIT, but as soon as she took the tourniquet off and released your hand you were happy again. The lady almost fell over when I told her we had just come from you getting a skin prick test. She said that most kids throw a fit as soon as they walk through the door because they are tired of being messed with. After all those appointments, I was hungry and I was sure you ready to eat your solids (you nursed at the doctor’s office). You got to taste gnocchi for the first time and you loved it. Most adults don’t even know what gnocchi is, but you eat it for lunch when you’re 10 months old! Mucho, Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-3497161711902711486?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/3497161711902711486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=3497161711902711486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3497161711902711486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3497161711902711486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/12/9th-and-10th-months.html' title='9th and 10th Months'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/S0AdbYuxjjI/AAAAAAAABJY/pG_sooF5TF0/s72-c/IMG_2175.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-7886807083194705498</id><published>2009-10-31T22:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T23:09:03.542-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sad Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6y0WjcrI/AAAAAAAABIo/4mRnEt9sVfc/s1600-h/IMG_2131.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6y0WjcrI/AAAAAAAABIo/4mRnEt9sVfc/s320/IMG_2131.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398965804264026802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;When we were at the pumpkin patch you were scared of all the pumpkins and I waited until last night to show you "our" pumpkin because I was afraid you would have the same reaction. You did. You got scared and cried at the sight of a perfectly round uncarved pumpkin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always loved carving pumpkins and for years I have begged/dragged your Pops to go pick out a pumpkin and then we think of a design and then carve it together. Lets just say it hasn't always been "his thing." But for the last 2-3 years he has asked me "when are we going to pick out our pumpkin?". I'm not sure if he just asks because he know I want to go or if he's had a change of heart and perhaps he gets a little joy out of the tradition?! Your Pops and I didn't carve a pumpkin this year. Number one reason is we were short on time. We bought the pumpkin exactly a week before Halloween. Number two, I just didn't feel up to it. I would have to carve it out of sight of you and you wouldn't be able to enjoy it lit... where's the fun in that? Besides, I said we were short on time..... I would rather be hanging out with you, than carving a pumpkin in a different room from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6zBLwZyI/AAAAAAAABIw/ICpxXaXQs1g/s1600-h/IMG_2126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6zBLwZyI/AAAAAAAABIw/ICpxXaXQs1g/s320/IMG_2126.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398965807708399394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today you were really sad. You only took about 45 minutes of your morning nap because of one really loud, obnoxious dog that lives in this house. Which meant I didn't get to shower while you napped (I was trying to put away laundry before hopping in the shower). So after you woke, I brought you into the bathroom with me while I showered. You are usually fine. Today you were not. You were so upset, you started sobbing. I spent the next 1 1/2 hours holding you and trying to calm you while I was in a robe with soaking wet hair. Your Grammy asked me why you were so upset. My response was "she didn't tell me." It can be so frustrating to not know what's wrong. It makes me so sad when you are sad. I suspect you were just upset because you have a top tooth that is about a hair width from feeling the air when you give that goofy smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was planning on taking you to Grammy &amp; Grampy's house in your costume and then running by Cooper's house (our cutie pie neighbor dinosaur) when we got home. But because we had such a rough day, I thought it was best that we stayed home. We spent a lot of time playing and rolling around on the floor together and I took some pictures of you in your costume. You were a Glow worm, but your Grandma had made you a tutu and so I also dressed you up in that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6zuHMsVI/AAAAAAAABI4/ZqNs_osO3cA/s1600-h/IMG_2142.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6zuHMsVI/AAAAAAAABI4/ZqNs_osO3cA/s320/IMG_2142.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398965819768877394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope next year, pumpkins won't seem so scary and we can go out and do some trick or treating. And hopefully all those teeth will be in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6zxoIw6I/AAAAAAAABJA/4s3_YFGjw9I/s1600-h/IMG_2154.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6zxoIw6I/AAAAAAAABJA/4s3_YFGjw9I/s320/IMG_2154.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398965820712338338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-7886807083194705498?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/7886807083194705498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=7886807083194705498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7886807083194705498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7886807083194705498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/10/sad-halloween.html' title='Sad Halloween'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Suz6y0WjcrI/AAAAAAAABIo/4mRnEt9sVfc/s72-c/IMG_2131.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-516481875929193843</id><published>2009-10-31T01:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T02:10:48.861-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughing</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-70bd3e95f3cf5ab6" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D70bd3e95f3cf5ab6%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4A0CD02F10960795E8B4ED8B75EA721BA45F173.6FD370A7D64B3EEF3784FCB81D15419995326257%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D70bd3e95f3cf5ab6%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DL3sCN-d3NDJIRebflXIw7F5s50Q&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D70bd3e95f3cf5ab6%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D4A0CD02F10960795E8B4ED8B75EA721BA45F173.6FD370A7D64B3EEF3784FCB81D15419995326257%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D70bd3e95f3cf5ab6%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DL3sCN-d3NDJIRebflXIw7F5s50Q&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-516481875929193843?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/516481875929193843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=516481875929193843' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/516481875929193843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/516481875929193843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/10/laughing.html' title='Laughing'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1753368867391820746</id><published>2009-10-27T23:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T00:09:50.087-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Picking out a Pumpkin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDaRgFG4I/AAAAAAAABIg/JCk8ulxe7u4/s1600-h/IMG_2120.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDaRgFG4I/AAAAAAAABIg/JCk8ulxe7u4/s320/IMG_2120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397497534568799106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;I have always loved the ritual of picking out a pumpkin, coming up with a design to carve, and the act of pumpkin carving.  But this process always starts with picking a pumpkin.  I was so excited to take you to the pumpkin patch to pick out your 1st pumpkin.  I was going to get all kinds of cute pictures of you.  Pictures of you next to pumpkins, on a pumpkin, standing and holding onto a pumpkin, etc.  However, we only really got a few pictures of you in the pumpkin patch.  Your Pops was wearing you as walked through the patch trying to find the perfect pumpkin.  We picked one out and when I picked it up to show you, you freaked out and started crying.  You were so scared!  So I moved the pumpkin away and we calmed you down.  So then we thought maybe you would do better if you were standing next to a pumpkin.... wrong.  Again, you freaked out.  So, we decided we had to get at least one picture of you alone with a pumpkin....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDaCejz7I/AAAAAAAABIY/FjwfVkUGdac/s1600-h/IMG_2116.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDaCejz7I/AAAAAAAABIY/FjwfVkUGdac/s320/IMG_2116.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397497530535890866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDZrpFYvI/AAAAAAAABIQ/17hE0sEcSaQ/s1600-h/IMG_2115.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDZrpFYvI/AAAAAAAABIQ/17hE0sEcSaQ/s320/IMG_2115.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397497524406018802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is 3 days later and I still haven't "shown" you the pumpkin again to see how you react... I'm a little worried.  Our pumpkin may be uncarved this year?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDZbpHAjI/AAAAAAAABII/Fs8fK5rU14A/s1600-h/IMG_2112.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDZbpHAjI/AAAAAAAABII/Fs8fK5rU14A/s320/IMG_2112.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397497520111157810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1753368867391820746?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1753368867391820746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1753368867391820746' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1753368867391820746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1753368867391820746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/10/picking-out-pumpkin.html' title='Picking out a Pumpkin'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SufDaRgFG4I/AAAAAAAABIg/JCk8ulxe7u4/s72-c/IMG_2120.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1727400645608509857</id><published>2009-10-17T09:55:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T23:57:23.678-04:00</updated><title type='text'>8 Months plus some</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue-g7IRHiI/AAAAAAAABHw/1frdAKxsoC0/s1600-h/8+month+sitting.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue-g7IRHiI/AAAAAAAABHw/1frdAKxsoC0/s320/8+month+sitting.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397492151264288290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;We just recently got back from visiting family in Missouri. I flew alone with you again (your 1st time you were 2 1/2 months old). The 1st time we flew together, we found out or flight was canceled when we got to the airport and they rescheduled us for the next flight 4 hours later. To compensate the airline gave me a $50 credit to use within a year which helped me decide to go for another visit. This time when we arrived at the airport, they informed me they overbooked the flight and they were asking for people to give up their seats. I was super smart and upgraded to business class. We had so much more room during the flight. You were the great baby you always are and didn't fuss the entire time during both flights. After we landed in St. Louis I was in the gate restroom looking for a changing station and I was stopped by a family (grandma, mom, and 7 year old daughter) who wanted to coo over you. I told your Grandmama that we were held up in the restroom with a family that wanted to see and talk to you and that we get stopped often for that reason. Whenever we are out, there is always someone that talks to you. We have nicknamed you the "Charmer." You give everyone a great big smile and squint those irresistible eyes at them. And if they're lucky you even bounce or kick your legs. You proved to Grandmama that this happens often.  When we were in Wal-mart, Grandmama was getting some food and I took you to the baby section to look around for a hat. There was a woman speeding through the baby area with just a few groceries in her arms until she saw you. She was walking so fast that she was about 10 feet past us when she stopped and turned around to talk to you. You flashed her that smile as she sped past and she couldn't resist you. She stopped and talked for a few minutes as if she had no where to go (despite being in a rush the first time she passed us). Then Grandmama met up with us and the lady was still there talking- you are definitely the Charmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6P09pasI/AAAAAAAABHg/wdAoPlRk5Yo/s1600-h/4+Generations+Women.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6P09pasI/AAAAAAAABHg/wdAoPlRk5Yo/s320/4+Generations+Women.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397487459504843458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6PimYSuI/AAAAAAAABHQ/sWdFEwfW2wc/s1600-h/the+cousin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6PimYSuI/AAAAAAAABHQ/sWdFEwfW2wc/s320/the+cousin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397487454575413986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are still not crawling, but really you don't "need" to because you roll everywhere and you're getting pretty fast flipping across the floor. Just this week you have been getting really good at pushing up on your arms, lifting your entire chest off the floor and pivoting around. You like to prop your feet up on things too. So you will roll over to the ottoman or to Puja and prop your legs up. Yesterday morning after you finished nursing, you rolled onto your back and then propped your left leg onto my right hip. It was really cute and sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue-hJc3WDI/AAAAAAAABIA/0UMTN1LkJNA/s1600-h/Ride+back+to+IL.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue-hJc3WDI/AAAAAAAABIA/0UMTN1LkJNA/s320/Ride+back+to+IL.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397492155108775986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are standing like a champ. You will stand when we hold you or put you in front of something for you to hold onto. When you stand you tend to lock your knees, so when I try to "walk" you forward your legs are stiff and I can't even get you to put one in front of the other. I'm in no hurry for you to walk or for me to be chasing you. You will bounce your legs when we say "boing, boing, boing" and you laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue-gxk-PQI/AAAAAAAABH4/7_QyMqNVC2E/s1600-h/8+months+standing.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue-gxk-PQI/AAAAAAAABH4/7_QyMqNVC2E/s320/8+months+standing.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397492148700331266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6QBnu4KI/AAAAAAAABHo/R0oSo6P8_fk/s1600-h/IMG_2108.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6QBnu4KI/AAAAAAAABHo/R0oSo6P8_fk/s320/IMG_2108.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397487462902587554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You still have only two front, bottom teeth (24, 25). You were really teething at the beginning of the month and I can see the two top incisors (6, 11) right under the gums. Then you stopped drooling so much and it was like they just stopped right there. Now it looks like your left front, top incisor (9) is moving down. You love your food and open your mouth really big for all your bites. You have even started eating some chunkier foods. Your Pops and I are still working on baby signs with you. You think "more" and "all done" are hilarious and you laugh and bounce when we sign them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are so curious about the world around you. You love to look around when we go out. I now face you outwards when I "wear" you so you don't get a cramp in your neck from craning it so far. You don't have much patience for nursing especially during the day time. If there is the tiniest noise you pop off and turn to look. The best time of day that you nurse is in the morning. You just nurse and snuggle with me and I LOVE IT!!! It takes every cell in my body to peel me out of bed to go to get ready for work in the mornings. I've had a hard time this month coping with being a working mom. I've always felt a little guilty about leaving you since I returned from maternity leave. But this month I had a co-worker friend who decided to not return to work and it has been hard for me. I've heard other co-workers say things like "when you look at that baby, how could you leave it" or "she's such a good mama." As a family I have to work for us to afford living and to have health insurance. I want you to know that I love you even when I am not with you. I look forward to seeing you at the end of every work day. When I have an bad day, all I think about is seeing your smiling face and giving you lots of kisses on those chubby cheeks and a nice snuggle before bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6Pl2uVhI/AAAAAAAABHY/XYE7LQyUhvo/s1600-h/Aiwyn+flower+dress2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue6Pl2uVhI/AAAAAAAABHY/XYE7LQyUhvo/s320/Aiwyn+flower+dress2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397487455449273874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;*I started this post on 10/17, but didn't finish it up until 10/27/09.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1727400645608509857?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1727400645608509857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1727400645608509857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1727400645608509857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1727400645608509857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/10/8-months-plus-some.html' title='8 Months plus some'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sue-g7IRHiI/AAAAAAAABHw/1frdAKxsoC0/s72-c/8+month+sitting.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1584088853964238111</id><published>2009-09-07T21:19:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T23:18:28.491-04:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDbpZkJDI/AAAAAAAABF4/ohnOec166t4/s1600-h/IMG_1985.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDbpZkJDI/AAAAAAAABF4/ohnOec166t4/s320/IMG_1985.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378920209700889650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;You are now seven months old! We were in Florida for your seven month "birthday." We went with your Grammy, Grandpa, Great Uncle Earle, Great Aunt Patti, and your cousin Little CJ. We had a great time. You only had 3 sad moments: after 6 hrs in the car on the way there, one night when you were ready for bed, and after 5 1/2 hrs in the car on the way back. That's ok, I, too, get a little short-fused after being in the car that long and when I'm sleepy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIYxbUfVI/AAAAAAAABGw/iGUXlKaNtHw/s1600-h/On+the+way+to+the+beach2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIYxbUfVI/AAAAAAAABGw/iGUXlKaNtHw/s320/On+the+way+to+the+beach2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378925657874267474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIYbDd63I/AAAAAAAABGo/9FMwby_SNJA/s1600-h/On+the+way+to+the+beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIYbDd63I/AAAAAAAABGo/9FMwby_SNJA/s320/On+the+way+to+the+beach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378925651868642162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than those three tiny times, you were the perfect, happy baby. You charmed everyone you met and I think Earle, Patti and CJ are in love with you. You had Earle talking baby talk! One afternoon you fell asleep in Patti's arms and she looked like she was in baby heaven. CJ loved to "play" with you and help take care of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDcbhJimI/AAAAAAAABGI/iS9QqBR0jv0/s1600-h/IMG_2006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDcbhJimI/AAAAAAAABGI/iS9QqBR0jv0/s320/IMG_2006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378920223154473570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXE8HHJEiI/AAAAAAAABGY/iesfcspWqWU/s1600-h/IMG_1956.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXE8HHJEiI/AAAAAAAABGY/iesfcspWqWU/s320/IMG_1956.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378921866944123426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXE7ih78aI/AAAAAAAABGQ/UmCv_foiBrk/s1600-h/IMG_2027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXE7ih78aI/AAAAAAAABGQ/UmCv_foiBrk/s320/IMG_2027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378921857124397474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have grown so much.  Last month you weighed 17 lbs 7 oz and you go back to the doctor in a few days.  I bought a travel size pack 'n play to keep at the shop for when you go with Pops to work and to take with us when we travel.  I brought it with us to Florida and tried to put you in it the first two nights, but you are too big.  You would stretch and hit the side and then wake yourself up.  So I gave up and we slept together.  Oh, the snuggles we had.  You have inherdited your Mama's professional snuggling skills and I LOVE IT!!!  However, you also inherdited your Pops spastic night time movements and you wiggle and kick a lot.  That, I wasn't too excited about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIZo5_LGI/AAAAAAAABHA/iIhOqO0BnaY/s1600-h/sleeping+with+mama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIZo5_LGI/AAAAAAAABHA/iIhOqO0BnaY/s320/sleeping+with+mama.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378925672766844002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was excited about taking your 7 month picture this month because you are sitting up so well on your own. You have gotten over your phase of always throwing yourself backwards when we sit you up (you used think it was funny because you were always caught be someone or had nice soft pillows stacked around you). However, on your day you decided to go on a "sitting strike" and it lasted through to the next day also. But it only lasted 2 days. I had to put a little sand seat behind your bottom to get a good picture on the beach. All your pictures turned out so good, it was hard to choose which ones to post. You were being a ham.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDbB1JCcI/AAAAAAAABFw/i4Np4OQJSvw/s1600-h/IMG_1978.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDbB1JCcI/AAAAAAAABFw/i4Np4OQJSvw/s320/IMG_1978.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378920199079135682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXMtIgAzgI/AAAAAAAABHI/2nUNdy_lx4o/s1600-h/IMG_1977.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXMtIgAzgI/AAAAAAAABHI/2nUNdy_lx4o/s320/IMG_1977.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378930405711859202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDak5HmNI/AAAAAAAABFo/G4hqJBHFPX4/s1600-h/IMG_1976.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDak5HmNI/AAAAAAAABFo/G4hqJBHFPX4/s320/IMG_1976.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378920191311190226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You got your first 2 teeth at the same time this past month and you have only bit me twice. Once you chomped down on my finger and the second time you got my side as you were laying on my lap and I was preparing to nurse you. I guess I wasn't moving fast enough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are doing better eating your food. You eat about 1 1/2 oz twice a day now (before you were eating less than an ounce twice a day). You still aren't that thrilled about eating and you don't open your open. I always thought all kids open their mouth excited about food. Not you. You'll eat it once it's in there, but you make it a challenge to get it in there. However, Grammy fed you dinner tonight &amp; she said you did open your mouth for her but you had it angled down...still making it a little challenging I guess. You still love your milk...you little Milk Monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIYHL3_zI/AAAAAAAABGg/UviX3to3uPI/s1600-h/Head+band.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIYHL3_zI/AAAAAAAABGg/UviX3to3uPI/s320/Head+band.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378925646535196466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You still aren't crawling, but you get around. You roll all over the floor and this past week, you have gotten quick. Today, I put you on your mat in the living room and was at the kitchen sink for about 1 minute and you had rolled almost to the edge of the living room. I definitely have to watch you on the bed now! You have even figured out how to roll with some forward momentum and not just side to side. This helps you to grab toys and the pups. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of your pups. Max and Puja were so excited when we got home. You got so many kisses. And then the next day you and Puja were rolling around on the floor together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIZGZV6QI/AAAAAAAABG4/3TNOKehFJUE/s1600-h/Rolling+around+with+Puja.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXIZGZV6QI/AAAAAAAABG4/3TNOKehFJUE/s320/Rolling+around+with+Puja.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378925663503116546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1584088853964238111?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1584088853964238111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1584088853964238111' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1584088853964238111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1584088853964238111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/09/7-months.html' title='7 Months'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SqXDbpZkJDI/AAAAAAAABF4/ohnOec166t4/s72-c/IMG_1985.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-2813041111282309156</id><published>2009-08-27T22:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T23:22:19.454-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn, &lt;br /&gt;You love your puppies and you think it's so much fun to "get them." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-110168437ba0f1f2" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v9.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D110168437ba0f1f2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7BE802520541280A1A7D5AD8B20F5A2B1540C305.837D4C0F7352C1FFB2738D795CA3152E0D377B07%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D110168437ba0f1f2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Drmh0gnixo4msEZJ2oTZlQAHX9Do&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v9.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D110168437ba0f1f2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7BE802520541280A1A7D5AD8B20F5A2B1540C305.837D4C0F7352C1FFB2738D795CA3152E0D377B07%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D110168437ba0f1f2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Drmh0gnixo4msEZJ2oTZlQAHX9Do&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho, Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-2813041111282309156?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=110168437ba0f1f2&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/2813041111282309156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=2813041111282309156' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/2813041111282309156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/2813041111282309156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/08/funny.html' title='Funny'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-5443253352775137175</id><published>2009-08-24T22:07:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:34:44.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy Flashback- Voting</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;As we drove home yesterday, we drove past the library where I voted during the last presidential election.... This past presidential election had the biggest turn out of voters in my voting history. (maybe ever? I haven't checked the stats on that.) I left work an hour early to drive across town to vote (from Covington to Lilburn). I got to the voting poll at about 4:45 PM and the line was wrapped around the outside of the building. I thought, "No problem. I have a magazine to read." It was a little chilly, but I had my winter coat on and the sun was still out. I left my scarf in the car and it was parked up a hill and on the side of a busy road (the library parking lot was full), so I didn't want to lose my place in line and go get it. The line was moving very slowly. And the sun was starting to set. It was so cold that I didn't want to take my hands out of my pockets to hold the magazine. There were some really sweet girls and their mom that were giving out cookies and hot chocolate which helped until I drank it all. Then the sun was gone and we were still outside. By this point I had already been in line a little over 2 hours. I called your Pops to have him bring me some snacks, gloves, a hat, oh and some socks because I was 6 months pregnant with hot feet and didn't wear socks that winter. But wait, I forgot to tell your Pops I needed socks, or did he forget? I can't remember. Well, he got there and had no socks for me. So he took his socks off and then walked barefoot back to the car! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one around me knew I was pregnant until we were almost inside. I guess I looked really robust in my winter coat. They found out when I asked someone to hold my place in line because I needed to go to the bathroom (and I made a comment about pregnancy bladder). At about 8:30 PM some people in line ordered pizza and shared. I was lucky enough to get 2 pieces. I think both you and I were starved. Finally we got inside the warm building, but they still had us weaving in and out of rooms. I cast my ballet after waiting 4 1/2 hours in line! That's dedication! So, next time I go to vote my packing list will contain: snacks, water, appropriate clothing and foot wear, something to make the time pass (iPod?), and a camp chair. And to your grandfather, I have to say "I'm glad my vote cancelled out yours!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SpNNar0k8QI/AAAAAAAABFg/Iobj0mf5D3Y/s1600-h/IMG_1167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SpNNar0k8QI/AAAAAAAABFg/Iobj0mf5D3Y/s320/IMG_1167.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373723901218320642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what we looked like 2 weeks after the voting.  Whoa, belly!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-5443253352775137175?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/5443253352775137175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=5443253352775137175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5443253352775137175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5443253352775137175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/08/pregnancy-flashback-voting.html' title='Pregnancy Flashback- Voting'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SpNNar0k8QI/AAAAAAAABFg/Iobj0mf5D3Y/s72-c/IMG_1167.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-3288385326689734305</id><published>2009-08-14T21:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T21:55:20.322-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Teeth!</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;It's official, you have teeth. Not just one coming in, but 2! They're in the middle on the bottom. Your Pops and I knew you were out of sorts on Sunday and you had been MISS DROOL MONSTER all week, but you haven't really been that cranky. When I started giving you solids, I started brushing your teeth after dinner each night. This week you have really been loving me rubbing the finger brush over your gums. There was no teeth last night, I think they both sprouted up over night. Grandma found your teeth today. She told me she was surprised I or your Pops hadn't seen them yet. She felt them when you were sucking on her finger. Apparently both your Pops and I replied that we don't let you suck on our fingers! At least Grandma washes her hands often!&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-3288385326689734305?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/3288385326689734305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=3288385326689734305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3288385326689734305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3288385326689734305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/08/teeth.html' title='Teeth!'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-5373809135277890492</id><published>2009-08-13T21:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T22:03:09.962-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kisses</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Just this week you started to give me kisses. At least that's what I'm calling them. I've nicknamed you "my little vampire" because when it's time to nurse you come at me with your mouth open and make an "aahh" sound that kind of sounds like a vampire noise. Your kisses are similar except it's not as scary as you lunging at my boob. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's still a little violent. You start of grabbing my hair. Each little chubby hand has a fist full of my curls on either side of my face. Then you use my hair to catapult yourself towards my face and you aim for either my mouth or my chin with your mouth wide open and the vampire "aahh" sound. When I pry you off my face (like a baby octopus) you are laughing and smiling. You are the silliest, sweetest little baby.  I love you.&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. As I was reviewing this before I posted, it reminded me that my Mom has told me many times that I used to do a similar vampire thing to her neck, but instead of making a vampire "aahhh" noise I would bob up and down and go "ahahahaha." Maybe this runs in the family?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-5373809135277890492?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/5373809135277890492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=5373809135277890492' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5373809135277890492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5373809135277890492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/08/kisses.html' title='Kisses'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-5615015416803927094</id><published>2009-08-06T23:11:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T20:48:37.391-04:00</updated><title type='text'>6 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snupr4g529I/AAAAAAAABEA/M6TRhfb_KME/s1600-h/IMG_1928.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snupr4g529I/AAAAAAAABEA/M6TRhfb_KME/s320/IMG_1928.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367069952311942098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;You turned 6 months last Saturday. I was on time making your onsie (actually early), just late writing your letter. Work gets in the way of so many things...especially spending time with you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnurVnGglgI/AAAAAAAABEQ/roSGDB-mmS0/s1600-h/6+months.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnurVnGglgI/AAAAAAAABEQ/roSGDB-mmS0/s320/6+months.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367071768703964674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are so much fun. You are still the happiest baby ever. You smile, giggle, and full on LAUGH most of the day. When we are out, I get all kinds of people that say "Look at that baby" and then you flirt and show your goofy smile and they can't help but smile too. Then they usually say "She's such a happy baby. Is she always like this?" I am always smiling when I say "Yes, we're lucky she's so happy ALL the time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnupsI47q1I/AAAAAAAABEI/5gHsJHtYJ9g/s1600-h/IMG_1927.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnupsI47q1I/AAAAAAAABEI/5gHsJHtYJ9g/s320/IMG_1927.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367069956707691346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've found your feet this week and love to grab ahold of them.  You look like you should be in a Jane Fonda video!  I've even caught you putting your toes in your mouth.  I took these pics in the car with my phone, so they're not the best but you're still cute in them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnuxvQbsAMI/AAAAAAAABFI/oL9C1Sww2zs/s1600-h/toe+touch3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnuxvQbsAMI/AAAAAAAABFI/oL9C1Sww2zs/s320/toe+touch3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367078806365143234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snux5QQwa4I/AAAAAAAABFQ/cx3sUzaJdUk/s1600-h/toe+touch2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snux5QQwa4I/AAAAAAAABFQ/cx3sUzaJdUk/s320/toe+touch2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367078978117987202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnuyAJLZ2_I/AAAAAAAABFY/E_mmY1nnF2c/s1600-h/toe+touch1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnuyAJLZ2_I/AAAAAAAABFY/E_mmY1nnF2c/s320/toe+touch1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367079096475573234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You love to kick those cute, chunky legs of yours all the time. You kick when you are laying on your stomach. You kick at things nearby when you are on your back. You think it's great fun to kick and scooch when we are changing your diaper- it's like you kick out of your diaper. You even like to kick when you are sitting so that you scooch down and can kick better when you are lounging or on your back. And you LOVE to kick in the bath. I had to retire your baby bath tub last week because you are getting so big and your kicks make most of the water come out of the tub and onto the counter, floor and me. I bought this super cute inflatable duck bath tub that fits in the big tub. It makes it smaller and has a non-slip bottom. It also quacks which makes you laugh (not squeak, but actually quacks three times when you squeeze the beak). The funny thing is you scooch so you are lounging with one arm propped up on the side of the tub and then you have better leg momentum to kick a ton of water out of the tub, but now it just goes into the big tub and down the drain. Well, I still get a little wet but I expect that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snur7KGnigI/AAAAAAAABEY/q0LYNDjhMhE/s1600-h/IMG_1900.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snur7KGnigI/AAAAAAAABEY/q0LYNDjhMhE/s320/IMG_1900.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367072413754821122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started you on rice cereal on your 6 month "birthday." You aren't too interested in solids yet. I guess we can't expect the "milk monster" to love new foods too easily! I made some organic zucchini for you last night and you had the same reaction as you had to the rice cereal. I haven't forgotten that you were born 3 weeks early and due to my occupation I think I'm more than qualified to help you learn to love new and exciting, yummy foods as you are ready for them. We will keep trying every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnusMX1_jJI/AAAAAAAABEg/q1FAi3pegJI/s1600-h/IMG_1902.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnusMX1_jJI/AAAAAAAABEg/q1FAi3pegJI/s320/IMG_1902.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367072709500963986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snusb_Ai1uI/AAAAAAAABEo/rdhb_jIwTv8/s1600-h/IMG_1907.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snusb_Ai1uI/AAAAAAAABEo/rdhb_jIwTv8/s320/IMG_1907.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367072977712240354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnusmxH75hI/AAAAAAAABEw/i3KzLHcD2Ao/s1600-h/IMG_1905.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnusmxH75hI/AAAAAAAABEw/i3KzLHcD2Ao/s320/IMG_1905.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367073162963707410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are really interested in the dogs now. You reach both your arms out to them when they walk by you. You also laugh and squeal at them. You love to "pet" them which is usually you getting a handful of ears or jowls. Max and Puja are so gentle and they love you. They enjoy giving you kisses on your hands and even your face. Max likes to smell your mouth which you so willingly open for him and then he tries to get a lick in. I think he's hoping there's some left over food in there. We don't approve of the open mouth kisses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnuuQxkR6fI/AAAAAAAABE4/gMZ0s-KjWB0/s1600-h/IMG_1887.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SnuuQxkR6fI/AAAAAAAABE4/gMZ0s-KjWB0/s320/IMG_1887.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367074984148724210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snuuau7R6-I/AAAAAAAABFA/H2z1gF-jYvo/s1600-h/IMG_1885.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snuuau7R6-I/AAAAAAAABFA/H2z1gF-jYvo/s320/IMG_1885.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367075155238579170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are so much to me. You are such a joy in my life. It makes my heart sing when you light up and give me your goofy smile when you see me. It makes me so happy to see you and your father interact. You both adore each other. I am in the happiest place I have ever been and I attribute it to my relationship with your Pops and the addition of you into our lives and making us more of a family. I love you with so much more than my heart can even possibly hold. I tell you many times a day I love you and I don't want you to ever doubt my love for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-5615015416803927094?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/5615015416803927094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=5615015416803927094' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5615015416803927094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5615015416803927094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/08/6-months.html' title='6 Months'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Snupr4g529I/AAAAAAAABEA/M6TRhfb_KME/s72-c/IMG_1928.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8871316323832726226</id><published>2009-07-22T21:45:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T22:07:41.579-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Soup</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn, &lt;br /&gt;You aren't old enough to be eating solids yet, but I set up your high chair about two weeks ago so you could be in the kitchen with me while I cook. Tonight you weren't really into playing with your toys. I was talking to you and telling you what I was chopping up.  Every time I looked over at you and told you more about cooking you would smile that goofy smile at me.  Then the kitchen was really quiet and I looked over and saw this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SmfD78FDu4I/AAAAAAAABDQ/LseggpooQIY/s1600-h/IMG_1880.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SmfD78FDu4I/AAAAAAAABDQ/LseggpooQIY/s320/IMG_1880.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361469315914906498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your high chair straps into a regular chair and is made for infant to toddler. It has a function to recline, which I thought was a strange feature until today....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SmfEnk7HtsI/AAAAAAAABDY/8hIRZN5twnw/s1600-h/IMG_1881.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SmfEnk7HtsI/AAAAAAAABDY/8hIRZN5twnw/s320/IMG_1881.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361470065613452994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the tray off and reclined you back and you took a 1/2 hour nap right there!  On another note, here's the video clip of your crazy cackle. We not sure if you were doing it to your reflection or to the fan's reflection!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-914051be2158085f" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D914051be2158085f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5191652F210BADF76FD8976EA0E95C4E27967C94.5315F8E870F1B01AF64F6B1EE83D0617521BFA71%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D914051be2158085f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DDsjZOh_NbA4cpNltmTFvTsISCI4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D914051be2158085f%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5191652F210BADF76FD8976EA0E95C4E27967C94.5315F8E870F1B01AF64F6B1EE83D0617521BFA71%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D914051be2158085f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DDsjZOh_NbA4cpNltmTFvTsISCI4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho, &lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8871316323832726226?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=914051be2158085f&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8871316323832726226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8871316323832726226' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8871316323832726226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8871316323832726226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/07/sleep-soup.html' title='Sleep Soup'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SmfD78FDu4I/AAAAAAAABDQ/LseggpooQIY/s72-c/IMG_1880.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-7817668772339455405</id><published>2009-07-07T23:54:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T01:04:21.938-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Belated 5 months</title><content type='html'>&lt;A href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQcJ15_KgI/AAAAAAAAA9A/q6wUenI1Y-I/s1600-h/IMG_1864.JPG"&gt;&lt;IMG style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355936812265056770 border=0 alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQcJ15_KgI/AAAAAAAAA9A/q6wUenI1Y-I/s320/IMG_1864.JPG"&gt;&lt;/A&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn, &lt;br /&gt;You turned 5 months old on the 1st. You are getting so "grown." Some days your Pops or I look at you and think we see some little girl facial expressions or movements. That's scary. I cannot say enough how much I love snuggling with you and giving you hugs and kisses. I dread the day that you pull away from my hugs. Maybe that's why you get so many... I'm trying to make sure I get in enough now to make up for the times when I might not get them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have become more dexterous and reach out further to grab things. You are master of the front to back roll over, but still don't like to "perform" your back to front roll. You can do it, you just prefer to lay on your back. Probably to stare at the fan more. You are doing great sitting up with very minimal support and you can sit unassisted for about 20 seconds max. &lt;A href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQfjvfPfiI/AAAAAAAAA9g/6H1IeRO5-bE/s1600-h/4th+of+July.jpg"&gt;&lt;IMG style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355940555753750050 border=0 alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQfjvfPfiI/AAAAAAAAA9g/6H1IeRO5-bE/s320/4th+of+July.jpg"&gt;&lt;/A&gt; You are definitely teething with all the thumb action and drool that's going on. But you aren't really cranky. &lt;A href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQgAoqpZoI/AAAAAAAAA9w/11FcPIs_-2E/s1600-h/IMG_1809.JPG"&gt;&lt;IMG style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355941052138743426 border=0 alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQgAoqpZoI/AAAAAAAAA9w/11FcPIs_-2E/s320/IMG_1809.JPG"&gt;&lt;/A&gt; You love to laugh, coo, fake cough (and then laugh), and now you cackle. Yes, you cackle. It's funny and we have video to prove it (I will post it later as it is late and blogger takes FOREVER to upload a video). Your new favorite "thing" is to look at things upside down. If we hold you on our lap you scooch so your head is hanging off over our knees and then you try to back bend even more upside down. It's pretty silly. Also, not only are you weaned off the bottle, but now you can hold your own sippy cup! &lt;A href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQc7tMy_pI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/z8NVA8VxJkI/s1600-h/IMG_1833.JPG"&gt;&lt;IMG style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355937668921491090 border=0 alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQc7tMy_pI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/z8NVA8VxJkI/s320/IMG_1833.JPG"&gt;&lt;/A&gt; Today you went to the doctor for some immunizations and you were a pretty brave girl. You cried right when the shots went in, but calmed down shortly after that. Today you weighed 16 pounds and 7 ounces and you are 25 3/4" long. I was 2 days late making your 5 onsie this month so you are not EXACTLY 5 months old in the picture. The picture was difficult to take because every time I backed away after sitting you up and scootched your legs to lay down.  Looks like you are posing... such a model! &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQjJ972dRI/AAAAAAAAA94/XS3OSF-bspM/s1600-h/IMG_1860.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQjJ972dRI/AAAAAAAAA94/XS3OSF-bspM/s320/IMG_1860.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355944511001752850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-7817668772339455405?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/7817668772339455405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=7817668772339455405' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7817668772339455405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7817668772339455405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/07/belated-5-months-pictures-galore.html' title='Belated 5 months'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SlQcJ15_KgI/AAAAAAAAA9A/q6wUenI1Y-I/s72-c/IMG_1864.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8941611182738817338</id><published>2009-06-25T20:17:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T20:30:15.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing you</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;I've been back to work almost two months now... and I REALLY miss you!  You are such a great sleeper and sleep 8-11 hours at night.  You are now eating more and going longer without nursing and you can sleep longer.  We are at the stage now where we need to adjust your eating schedule and/or put you to bed earlier.  Since returning to work I wake you at 6:00 am to nurse and cuddle before I start my day.  It is sooo hard to put you back in your crib and get ready to go to work.  Then I get home about 5:30pm and you are ready to go to sleep about 9:30 pm (even though I don't actually put you to bed until 10:30 or 11:00 pm because I want to see more of you and cuddle longer).  What is a mama to do?  It's killing me that I only get to see you for 20 minutes in the morning and 5-5 1/2 hours at night and I really should be putting you to bed earlier.  Ok, I need to move on.  It's too hard to type with teary eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SkQV3ZBx4GI/AAAAAAAAA8w/4o5HzWaOti4/s1600-h/IMG_1762.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SkQV3ZBx4GI/AAAAAAAAA8w/4o5HzWaOti4/s320/IMG_1762.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351426298578329698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, you can roll over now!  You are a pro at front to back and back to front with a trapped arm under you.  And you are weaned off the bottle at 4 1/2 months!  You drink your mama's milk in a sippy cup like a big girl now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SkQV_EQFaAI/AAAAAAAAA84/19bnsvzXJs8/s1600-h/IMG_1801.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SkQV_EQFaAI/AAAAAAAAA84/19bnsvzXJs8/s320/IMG_1801.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351426430440138754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8941611182738817338?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8941611182738817338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8941611182738817338' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8941611182738817338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8941611182738817338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/06/missing-you.html' title='Missing you'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SkQV3ZBx4GI/AAAAAAAAA8w/4o5HzWaOti4/s72-c/IMG_1762.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-6083897526461314457</id><published>2009-06-04T19:05:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T20:49:24.155-04:00</updated><title type='text'>4 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihpS3oTfMI/AAAAAAAAA4c/AxRaPeyNn5o/s1600-h/IMG_1794.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihpS3oTfMI/AAAAAAAAA4c/AxRaPeyNn5o/s320/IMG_1794.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343636730766654658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;On Monday you turned 4 months old. Wow, I think time speeds up when you have a child. Today at your doctor's visit you weighed 15 pounds and you are 24 3/4 inches long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're getting good with grasping things and putting them in your mouth. Your fingers and hands (yes, almost the whole hand) are your favorite things to put in your mouth. Second place is a two-way tie between your dress/shirt and your burp cloths. It was hard to capture your four month photo showing your number four because you were either clasping your hands or putting them in your mouth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihppwOmYBI/AAAAAAAAA4k/5ALBbszshQc/s1600-h/IMG_1766.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihppwOmYBI/AAAAAAAAA4k/5ALBbszshQc/s320/IMG_1766.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343637123916783634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sihp6dFRJRI/AAAAAAAAA4s/gOxir9ps_Y8/s1600-h/IMG_1765.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sihp6dFRJRI/AAAAAAAAA4s/gOxir9ps_Y8/s320/IMG_1765.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343637410835146002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihqDN2_ewI/AAAAAAAAA40/p405R-SJjbs/s1600-h/IMG_1764.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihqDN2_ewI/AAAAAAAAA40/p405R-SJjbs/s320/IMG_1764.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343637561367558914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are pretty good at grasping your pacifier and pulling it out of your mouth and putting it back in. With all this mouth action your drool volume has significantly increased. Your back is quite strong and you're great at doing the yoga sphinx position. We're still waiting on you to pull out the cobra and support your weight with your arms. You are sitting up with minimal support. We are starting to think you have an unhealthy obsession with Fred or fans in general. We mentioned this to your pediatrician today and she said "fans are like baby crack." So true! You are almost rolling over. You get 1/2 there and end up turning your whole body around in a circle like hands on a clock. You did fully roll over one time with your Pops and I watching it was pretty cool watching you do that. For the past month- month 1/2 you have been the BEST sleeper. You go to bed around 10 pm and sleep until about 6 am. I usually have to wake you at 6 so I can feed you before work. Then you go back to bed until 9:30 or 10:00 am. You still always wake up smiling. We never have to get you out of bed because you are crying. You get your love of sleeping from me and your happy waking from your Pops. You are quite a smiley baby. You love to smile, laugh and coo. You have the Rogers' smile eyes- they close into little half moons.  I love it when your smiles are for me.... call me greedy, I am when it comes to you.&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihqcJuNf0I/AAAAAAAAA48/zfUaDpKORP0/s1600-h/IMG_1760.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihqcJuNf0I/AAAAAAAAA48/zfUaDpKORP0/s320/IMG_1760.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343637989753716546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-6083897526461314457?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/6083897526461314457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=6083897526461314457' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/6083897526461314457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/6083897526461314457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/06/4-months.html' title='4 Months'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SihpS3oTfMI/AAAAAAAAA4c/AxRaPeyNn5o/s72-c/IMG_1794.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1655068032618169427</id><published>2009-05-30T23:35:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T23:58:18.167-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pool Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH8XiRWUXI/AAAAAAAAA3k/0L0zx_iUXVI/s1600-h/100_0157.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH8XiRWUXI/AAAAAAAAA3k/0L0zx_iUXVI/s320/100_0157.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341828114304881010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;You are lucky to have grandparents that have a pool in their back yard.  Today we went to visit them and take your first "swim."  You enjoyed your new float and seemed quite relaxed in the water.  You were even kicking your legs.  You looked so cute in your swim suit and sun hat (even though they don't match).  And your new swim diapers rock.... they held in quite a big blowout!&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH80ICxr6I/AAAAAAAAA3s/vrdaSE1xKvg/s1600-h/100_0151.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH80ICxr6I/AAAAAAAAA3s/vrdaSE1xKvg/s320/100_0151.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341828605480644514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH9vL6NoBI/AAAAAAAAA38/8w49UOwT7mQ/s1600-h/100_0159.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH9vL6NoBI/AAAAAAAAA38/8w49UOwT7mQ/s320/100_0159.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341829620130750482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IF YOU LOOK CLOSELY YOU CAN SEE A STRING OF DROOL- YOUR NEW THING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH9Rs2H4aI/AAAAAAAAA30/JQ7F1doZn_0/s1600-h/100_0155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH9Rs2H4aI/AAAAAAAAA30/JQ7F1doZn_0/s320/100_0155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341829113575891362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DROOL IS SO 5 MINUTES AGO.... NOW IT'S BUBBLES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH-F5sfzNI/AAAAAAAAA4E/MV7lrCjNrNI/s1600-h/100_0161.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH-F5sfzNI/AAAAAAAAA4E/MV7lrCjNrNI/s320/100_0161.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341830010378374354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BACK TO THE POOL FOR MORE CHILAXING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH-gpDeq0I/AAAAAAAAA4M/dMP4eUyf7tA/s1600-h/100_0164.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH-gpDeq0I/AAAAAAAAA4M/dMP4eUyf7tA/s320/100_0164.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341830469767834434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH-sJLCKKI/AAAAAAAAA4U/dwTKo8N2uo4/s1600-h/100_0165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH-sJLCKKI/AAAAAAAAA4U/dwTKo8N2uo4/s320/100_0165.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341830667368016034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1655068032618169427?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1655068032618169427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1655068032618169427' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1655068032618169427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1655068032618169427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/05/pool-baby.html' title='Pool Baby'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SiH8XiRWUXI/AAAAAAAAA3k/0L0zx_iUXVI/s72-c/100_0157.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4766367479007761740</id><published>2009-05-25T09:52:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T20:27:02.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain Lullaby</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;It's been quite rainy lately and I have always enjoyed going to sleep when it rains. It helps lull me to sleep. Apparently you take after your Mama. We took a late afternoon nap on Sunday and your Pops snuck in a picture. &lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ShqkHwd2P_I/AAAAAAAAA3c/DwjGO-QFHwg/s1600-h/IMG_1721.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ShqkHwd2P_I/AAAAAAAAA3c/DwjGO-QFHwg/s320/IMG_1721.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339760761377275890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4766367479007761740?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4766367479007761740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4766367479007761740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4766367479007761740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4766367479007761740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/05/rain-lullaby.html' title='Rain Lullaby'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ShqkHwd2P_I/AAAAAAAAA3c/DwjGO-QFHwg/s72-c/IMG_1721.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8492430420227954634</id><published>2009-05-16T20:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T20:24:45.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lunch Date</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sg9Y6F06UhI/AAAAAAAAA3M/EpT3zunlJs8/s1600-h/tongue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sg9Y6F06UhI/AAAAAAAAA3M/EpT3zunlJs8/s320/tongue.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336581838477087250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Since I've been back to work, it been interesting to see your Pops become Mr.Mom. He has really stepped up and is now super Pops and super husband. He wakes up after I get out of the shower to put you back to sleep. Then he goes downstairs to make me breakfast (with coffee of course) and to help me gather all my work stuff (water, pump parts, bottles, lunch, etc.). During the time that he spends at home he has been washing diapers, doing dishes and he's even cooked lunch a couple of times to bring to me! He brings you up to my work 2-3 times a week so we can all spend time together and eat. Your Grandma is also watching you during the day &amp; has helped out around the house too. Having your Pops &amp; Grandma has really helped ease my transition back to work- I don't have to worry about you being taken care of. I know that when I'm gone you are still getting lots of kisses and snuggles. The night before I went back to work I told your Pops he had to do something that I usually do with you.... every time I pick you up, (out of the car seat, crib, swing, changing table, etc) I kiss you. He told me that he already kisses you all the time, but he would make sure not to forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These pictures were taken the first week of our lunch dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sg9YEXcuH_I/AAAAAAAAA3E/sO02H_HOKfI/s1600-h/in+daddys+arms.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sg9YEXcuH_I/AAAAAAAAA3E/sO02H_HOKfI/s320/in+daddys+arms.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336580915494526962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8492430420227954634?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8492430420227954634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8492430420227954634' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8492430420227954634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8492430420227954634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/05/lunch-date.html' title='Lunch Date'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sg9Y6F06UhI/AAAAAAAAA3M/EpT3zunlJs8/s72-c/tongue.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1280374484735900949</id><published>2009-05-04T22:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T22:35:29.038-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Weight Update</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Your weight today was 14 lbs 6 oz and you are 23 7/8" long (83 percentile wt/lt). At your two month check up you were 11 lbs 12 oz and 22 1/2" long (70 percentile wt/lt).  Wow, what a growing girl.&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1280374484735900949?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1280374484735900949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1280374484735900949' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1280374484735900949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1280374484735900949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/05/weight-update.html' title='Weight Update'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1589952347463517751</id><published>2009-05-03T21:21:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T18:21:47.651-04:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sf5V2sbSpbI/AAAAAAAAA2s/pPRnxcZCug4/s1600-h/IMG_1699.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sf5V2sbSpbI/AAAAAAAAA2s/pPRnxcZCug4/s320/IMG_1699.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331793406980171186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;You turned 3 months on Friday. I started back to work this past week and have dearly missed spending my days with you. When I would get home from work you would look like a crazy baby shaking your head with your mouth open panting. I'm not sure how glad you were that your Mama was home, but you were completely ecstatic that the milk maker was home and you wanted milk NOW. You would nurse about every hour and gorge yourself so much that you would spit up. Friday night you slept in our bed all night because I just couldn't stop snuggling with you and I enjoyed every second of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started crying 5 days before I started back to work and I think I got most of the crying out of my system before I actually went to work. It really helped me that your Pops brought you to my work 2 days last week during lunch so we could spend time and eat together. On my second day, I had a lunch meeting and couldn't see you. I called your Pops when I got back from my meeting to check on you. You were having a great time on your play mat. Your Pops said he was going to put you on the phone. I started talking to you and you cooed back. That's when I broke down. However, your Pops surprised me with a digital picture frame the 1st night I got home and it's really helped to see all those pretty pictures of you all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are still such a sweet, happy baby. You smile all the time and coo. You wake up with a big, goofy grin on your face. I think you got that from your Pops. I can't help be in a good mood when I see your happy face. Your "bewitching hour" has tamed. I should further clarify and say that your Pops and I now know what you want during your "bewitching hour." This is still usually between 6-9 pm. You are tired, but not tired enough to actually go to bed. You just want to nurse and then lay on your play mat &amp; wiggle around. You don't want to be held, just left alone to wiggle and de-stress from the day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your new thing is that you like to be held sitting up... I think you are working on those core and neck muscles. You also have found out you love sucking on your hands. You now grasp onto your dress or burp cloth and try to suck on those too. One of the things that makes you smile the most is the fan. We say that it is your favorite #1 inanimate object. Your Pops has named the fan downstairs, Fred the fan. Your second favorite inanimate object is the light in our living room. You stare at both of these things and then break out in a smile like you are sharing an inside joke that only the two of you know and can hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am enjoying watching you discover the world around you and look forward to more new discoveries and joys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sf5VubOipoI/AAAAAAAAA2k/MCTNQSGBC40/s1600-h/IMG_1698.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sf5VubOipoI/AAAAAAAAA2k/MCTNQSGBC40/s320/IMG_1698.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331793264924337794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sf5WDqt-o3I/AAAAAAAAA28/oL64vyAI6zQ/s1600-h/IMG_1696.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sf5WDqt-o3I/AAAAAAAAA28/oL64vyAI6zQ/s320/IMG_1696.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331793629859980146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1589952347463517751?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1589952347463517751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1589952347463517751' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1589952347463517751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1589952347463517751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/05/3-months.html' title='3 Months'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sf5V2sbSpbI/AAAAAAAAA2s/pPRnxcZCug4/s72-c/IMG_1699.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4446948585038227738</id><published>2009-04-27T23:01:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T06:54:20.984-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So Cute</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn, &lt;br /&gt;You are the sweetest baby. You are so happy all the time and your smiles are contagious. I love when you smile and coo. &lt;br /&gt;Mucho, Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ec11e3551807cf12" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D3a82004f3bcd52c3%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D70108D8608CDE6608FB57AC3ECB23EBA87EDC843.2A2945565D8D6735D51CCCA27AD77736ED116334%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3a82004f3bcd52c3%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DE32ReECY2eWUycNrjTr-IvtVmME&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4446948585038227738?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=3a82004f3bcd52c3&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=ec11e3551807cf12&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4446948585038227738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4446948585038227738' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4446948585038227738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4446948585038227738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-cute.html' title='So Cute'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-6922470665587557840</id><published>2009-04-20T13:23:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T16:53:37.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting Grandmama</title><content type='html'>FOUR GENERATIONS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SezeZZwt7PI/AAAAAAAAA10/2t9TGYsupX4/s1600-h/IMG_1586.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SezeZZwt7PI/AAAAAAAAA10/2t9TGYsupX4/s320/IMG_1586.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326876987265772786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;We just got back home from Missouri, where we were visiting with family. You got to meet your Grandmama (my mom), Grandpa, Uncle Chris, Great Grandma Unga, and Great Aunt Lisa. It was just you and me on the trip and we flew up there. I was nervous how I would handle all our stuff and carrying you by myself and I was worried you would cry on the plane. The flight up there was canceled and we didn't know it until we went to check in (I guess an airline can just cancel your flight for no reason- the guy at the counter didn't even know why it was cancelled). They bumped us to a later flight (3 hours later). We were able to get a pass for your Pops to walk us to the gate to help. And you were the best baby ever. You were awesome on both flights and all week. The only time you fussed was during the last 30 minutes of the car ride to Grandmama's house which is 2 hours away from the airport and we already had a long day with our cancelled flight. You were so sick of moving. You would stop crying when the car stopped and you were so happy when we got to the house. We had lots of fun hanging out with everyone and you won everyone over with your silly tongue grins and sweet personality. I hope we get to see them again soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRANDPA, GRANDMAMA, MAMA, AIWYN, UNCLE CHRIS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SezenCEx0-I/AAAAAAAAA18/XPr9w-_x0oc/s1600-h/IMG_1591.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SezenCEx0-I/AAAAAAAAA18/XPr9w-_x0oc/s320/IMG_1591.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326877221425632226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRANDMAMA AND GREAT AUNT LISA &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Seze50xxvSI/AAAAAAAAA2E/JOMD-eDY2H0/s1600-h/IMG_1611.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Seze50xxvSI/AAAAAAAAA2E/JOMD-eDY2H0/s320/IMG_1611.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326877544273788194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PROUD UNCLE CHRIS GETTING HIS WORK OUT (HE SAID HIS BACK WAS SORE AFTER CARRYING YOU)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SezfL_T-V8I/AAAAAAAAA2M/dL-w7ZYavzU/s1600-h/IMG_1612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SezfL_T-V8I/AAAAAAAAA2M/dL-w7ZYavzU/s320/IMG_1612.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326877856339220418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ENJOYING YOUR BATH WITH GRANDMAMA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sezfk7qMu8I/AAAAAAAAA2U/6tSpYfgbHKs/s1600-h/IMG_1622.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sezfk7qMu8I/AAAAAAAAA2U/6tSpYfgbHKs/s320/IMG_1622.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326878284855425986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRANDMAMA TRYING TO SOAK YOU UP BEFORE WE LEAVE FOR THE AIRPORT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sezf3dDK94I/AAAAAAAAA2c/uJI2Wlj7WTU/s1600-h/IMG_1647.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sezf3dDK94I/AAAAAAAAA2c/uJI2Wlj7WTU/s320/IMG_1647.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326878603056183170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho, &lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-6922470665587557840?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/6922470665587557840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=6922470665587557840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/6922470665587557840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/6922470665587557840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/04/meeting-grandmama.html' title='Meeting Grandmama'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SezeZZwt7PI/AAAAAAAAA10/2t9TGYsupX4/s72-c/IMG_1586.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-7756102316334432006</id><published>2009-04-12T13:31:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T13:39:16.209-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dad is Rad</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Your Uncle Carl and Aunt Anja bought you some really cute onsies. You are now big enough to fit into the first one and I thought I would take a picture to send to them. You had a different idea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MA I DON'T WANT MY PICTURE TAKEN NOW&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeImRcV9JfI/AAAAAAAAA1U/OPHT-Kvsi54/s1600-h/IMG_1552.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeImRcV9JfI/AAAAAAAAA1U/OPHT-Kvsi54/s320/IMG_1552.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323859790613259762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW I REALLY DON'T WANT IT TAKEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeImjbnMAvI/AAAAAAAAA1c/diM4yHukiaQ/s1600-h/IMG_1554.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeImjbnMAvI/AAAAAAAAA1c/diM4yHukiaQ/s320/IMG_1554.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323860099654746866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOMEONE SAVE ME&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeIms1sfn5I/AAAAAAAAA1k/X_qLLY6e4fA/s1600-h/IMG_1557.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeIms1sfn5I/AAAAAAAAA1k/X_qLLY6e4fA/s320/IMG_1557.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323860261275148178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH, HI PUJA! THANKS FOR SAVING ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeIm8mbsEjI/AAAAAAAAA1s/4-PWXhGxa4I/s1600-h/IMG_1547.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeIm8mbsEjI/AAAAAAAAA1s/4-PWXhGxa4I/s320/IMG_1547.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323860532056035890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Your Dad IS rad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-7756102316334432006?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/7756102316334432006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=7756102316334432006' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7756102316334432006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7756102316334432006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-dad-is-rad.html' title='My Dad is Rad'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SeImRcV9JfI/AAAAAAAAA1U/OPHT-Kvsi54/s72-c/IMG_1552.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-3811163345628986442</id><published>2009-04-04T16:15:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T16:25:09.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dress Up</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to take up-close pictures of you at David and Tessa's wedding. We came home from the wedding to change before going over to your grandparents and then I remembered that I needed to take a picture. So I got out the camera and snapped some pictures. I had your Pops hold you to try and show off your dress. I love these pictures. You had turned into the milk monster and wanted to be feed NOW, but your Pops was so calm despite your screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdfBvPK9DCI/AAAAAAAAA1E/W8-Tjb_yn8A/s1600-h/IMG_1506.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdfBvPK9DCI/AAAAAAAAA1E/W8-Tjb_yn8A/s320/IMG_1506.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320934502032018466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdfB2Q9-JBI/AAAAAAAAA1M/s3TNDsFVrqk/s1600-h/IMG_1505.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdfB2Q9-JBI/AAAAAAAAA1M/s3TNDsFVrqk/s320/IMG_1505.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320934622773519378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-3811163345628986442?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/3811163345628986442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=3811163345628986442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3811163345628986442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3811163345628986442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/04/dress-up.html' title='Dress Up'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdfBvPK9DCI/AAAAAAAAA1E/W8-Tjb_yn8A/s72-c/IMG_1506.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-6281541054328452020</id><published>2009-04-01T14:05:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T15:42:22.525-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2 Months!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdPCVz2vVSI/AAAAAAAAA0s/TBs8lSFqcNE/s1600-h/IMG_1537.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdPCVz2vVSI/AAAAAAAAA0s/TBs8lSFqcNE/s320/IMG_1537.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319809264807531810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Today you are two months old!  I love being your Mama and spending our days together.  We go everywhere together and yes, I do take you out.  You are such a sweet baby.  You are growing so quickly.  From the time you started eating you would nurse and then towards the end you would make this small "aahh, ahh, aahh" noise like you had been doing so much work.  It was so adorable, but I just realized the other day that you don't do it much any more.  I guess you are so big now that eating isn't that much work.  You have really grown.  I weighed you at the store the other day and you were 12 pounds 12 ounces.  We will get an official weight tomorrow at your 2 month check up.  I look forward to showing your pediatrician what an eating champ you have become.  You still don't have set nap times during the day or even a set bed time.  I've tried to give you a bedtime (especially after reading the "No Cry Sleep Solution" book) but it isn't working for us.  You have what I have termed "the bewitching hour."  It happens from 6:30pm-9:00pm.  During this time you are fussy and want to be held and I don't get much else done besides holding you.  Once you come out of this fussiness, you get drowsy and that is when we get you ready for bed.  This usually allows your Pops to visit with you before bed.  At about two weeks old you began smiling after you had a full belly and you were about to doze off, but now you are starting to smile in response to us.  Some days I even think I hear the beginnings of cooing.  I am enjoying all your new developments and experiences and look forward to what's next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdPCdsLOEII/AAAAAAAAA00/QBOfuUSw9Tc/s1600-h/IMG_1533.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdPCdsLOEII/AAAAAAAAA00/QBOfuUSw9Tc/s320/IMG_1533.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319809400184901762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdPCnu95H4I/AAAAAAAAA08/X5Q03FdD92k/s1600-h/IMG_1541.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdPCnu95H4I/AAAAAAAAA08/X5Q03FdD92k/s320/IMG_1541.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319809572733001602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-6281541054328452020?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/6281541054328452020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=6281541054328452020' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/6281541054328452020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/6281541054328452020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/04/2-months.html' title='2 Months!'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdPCVz2vVSI/AAAAAAAAA0s/TBs8lSFqcNE/s72-c/IMG_1537.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4364039859997821478</id><published>2009-04-01T12:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T14:04:58.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'>See ya'll later</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Last night was a very sad night. Your Aunt Susan, Uncle Rick, cousins Ben and Olivia left to move to Chicago. Susan and Rick have lived close to your Pops and me for the past 8 years. Your Grandma has hosted Sunday night dinners for the family for a long time and we all get together, eat and have a good time. It is common for people to complain about their in-laws... I am lucky to never have a need to complain. You Grandma and Papa-Daddy are awesome as in-laws and even better (if that's even possible) as grandparents. Rick was the first in-law married into the Rogers family and he fit in wonderfully. Since then all the "in-lawed children" have got along great. We even go on family vacations together. Ben and Olivia were my first nephew and niece and I enjoy being their Aunt Dinisha. I think that, I laugh more when I'm with the entire Rogers' family than I do the whole rest of the week (and not because my week is boring, but because we have such a great time together). I'm really going to miss all of the Meyer family, all our laughs, and I hope they move back to Georgia soon. I look forward to our next family get-together and you making memories with your cousins.  Below is a link to Picasa for some pictures of the Meyer family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="width:194px;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" style="height:194px;background:url(http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/nutriknitter/MeyerFamily?feat=embedwebsite"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdOdrLox7KE/AAAAAAAAA0o/jlHDz7dy-U4/s160-c/MeyerFamily.jpg" width="160" height="160" style="margin:1px 0 0 4px;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align:center;font-family:arial,sans-serif;font-size:11px"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/nutriknitter/MeyerFamily?feat=embedwebsite" style="color:#4D4D4D;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;"&gt;Meyer Family&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to Susan, Rick, Ben &amp; Olivia I will not say good bye, I will see ya'll later! We love ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4364039859997821478?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4364039859997821478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4364039859997821478' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4364039859997821478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4364039859997821478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/04/see-yall-later.html' title='See ya&apos;ll later'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdOdrLox7KE/AAAAAAAAA0o/jlHDz7dy-U4/s72-c/MeyerFamily.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8042189087165007932</id><published>2009-03-30T11:28:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T11:48:09.074-04:00</updated><title type='text'>David &amp; Tessa's Wedding</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday you attended your first wedding. Your Uncle David married Tessa (now Aunt Tessa). You were the perfect baby the entire time. You did not fuss or even make a peep. Everyone was excited to see such a pretty baby. You were also able to meet your Nana, Aunt Gina, Aunt Christy, and Cousin Hailey for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU AND NANA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDnZ_YkYDI/AAAAAAAAAuI/U_VuoMZhfUY/s1600-h/IMG_1480.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDnZ_YkYDI/AAAAAAAAAuI/U_VuoMZhfUY/s320/IMG_1480.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319005593621782578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR POPS HOLDING YOUR AUNT SUSAN'S PLATE SO SHE COULD EAT &amp; HOLD YOU AT THE SAME TIME (COUSIN HAILEY TOO!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDnpRTGbBI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/vL5-F4OfFr0/s1600-h/IMG_1481.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDnpRTGbBI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/vL5-F4OfFr0/s320/IMG_1481.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319005856128723986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day was forecast to be horrible with rain, terrible thunderstorms, and possible tornadoes. The old saying is that it's "good luck to rain on your wedding day." Well, I guess the luck started that day. The thunderstorms and tornadoes never came. The wedding was so beautiful inside that you forgot how horrible it was outside. Tessa was beautiful and David was entertaining (literally... he sang "Let's Get it On" to his bride). We had a great time at the wedding. Congratulations to Dave and Tessa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRIDE &amp; GROOM WITH PARTIAL BRIDAL PARTY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDnOjelkXI/AAAAAAAAAuA/ZKJZUNgQvMA/s1600-h/IMG_1476.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDnOjelkXI/AAAAAAAAAuA/ZKJZUNgQvMA/s320/IMG_1476.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319005397152272754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HANDSOME COUSIN CARSON (LOVE THE BOW TIE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDoKBH8vjI/AAAAAAAAAuY/aEj_FUeXMjE/s1600-h/IMG_1492.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDoKBH8vjI/AAAAAAAAAuY/aEj_FUeXMjE/s320/IMG_1492.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319006418722668082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BEAUTIFUL BRIDE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDoksSC9FI/AAAAAAAAAug/TFIGYMIob0c/s1600-h/IMG_1487.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDoksSC9FI/AAAAAAAAAug/TFIGYMIob0c/s320/IMG_1487.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319006876984341586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UNCLE RICK &amp; AUNT SUSAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDo4Ld3eQI/AAAAAAAAAuo/VZGGZaKq880/s1600-h/IMG_1495.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDo4Ld3eQI/AAAAAAAAAuo/VZGGZaKq880/s320/IMG_1495.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319007211772934402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SILLY UNCLE ADAM (I THINK HE LOOKS LIKE CLIP ART "BUSINESS MAN" HERE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDpM5HNshI/AAAAAAAAAuw/fE0S8ZQQvwk/s1600-h/IMG_1478.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDpM5HNshI/AAAAAAAAAuw/fE0S8ZQQvwk/s320/IMG_1478.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319007567623336466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8042189087165007932?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8042189087165007932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8042189087165007932' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8042189087165007932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8042189087165007932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/david-tessas-wedding.html' title='David &amp; Tessa&apos;s Wedding'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SdDnZ_YkYDI/AAAAAAAAAuI/U_VuoMZhfUY/s72-c/IMG_1480.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8123844562491046808</id><published>2009-03-26T12:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T12:38:11.142-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Does your body good</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;At your two week check up, your pediatrician gave your Pops and me a long speal about giving you a vitamin D supplement because you are exclusively breastfed. (She remembered that I was a lactation consultant but forgot I was a dietitian!) I've always had mixed feelings about the recommendation. Breastmilk is made for human babies and it does include all the nutrition that a baby needs. And yes it even has vitamin D. The level of vitamin D in breastmilk is much lower than AAP recommends for supplementation, but it is much easier absorbed than synthetic vitamin D. Also, humans are meant to be outside so their bodies can make vitamin D (from the UV absorbed through your skin). For a Caucasian baby it only takes 30 minutes a week of sun light on face, legs, and arms. However, our pediatrician also advised us to keep you out of the sun and when you are in the sun to use sunscreen to decrease the chance of skin cancer (even though other recommendations advise to wait until 6 months to use sunscreen). I personally think 30 minutes a week is good for you. It helps you to make vitamin D, helps expose you to natural UV light for happiness (people experience seasonal affective disorder, SAD, - a type of depression during low exposure to UV), it gets you outside which gives you fresh air, walking with you outside is teaching you healthy habits and helping me to lose my pregnancy weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to help you make your vitamin D we have been going on walks on all the nice weather days. Sometimes it's daily and sometimes it's just a few times a week (which is ok because your body can store vitamin D). We usually walk 45 minutes. I keep the sunshade on you most of the time and let the sunlight shine on you for about 15-20 minutes of the walk. I've had several comments about your skin coloring. You have more of your father's Latino coloring than mine. Even though I too have an olive complexion- it's just hard to tell with all my paleness. Maybe I'll get a little more color with our walks, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Scur3nkP5-I/AAAAAAAAAt4/3-2iMT27OuM/s1600-h/IMG_1439.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Scur3nkP5-I/AAAAAAAAAt4/3-2iMT27OuM/s320/IMG_1439.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317532757043177442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The above picture was taken on March 10th. You usually sleep during our walks (like the picture), but sometimes you let everyone know we are coming. One day a couple of weeks ago, the weather was so beautiful that a lot of people were out walking around the neighborhood while we were out. Yet, you started crying when we were about 15 minutes away from home. It was so funny to see how all the dogs reacted. They pulled on their leashes to come save you. Since then I have learned to bring the pacifier just in case. (We just started using a pacifier a few weeks ago and we rarely use it. I only use it if you are fed, dry, and fussy.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8123844562491046808?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8123844562491046808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8123844562491046808' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8123844562491046808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8123844562491046808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/does-your-body-good.html' title='Does your body good'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Scur3nkP5-I/AAAAAAAAAt4/3-2iMT27OuM/s72-c/IMG_1439.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-55679604717787267</id><published>2009-03-23T17:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T17:47:23.867-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finished Old Post</title><content type='html'>On March 11th, I filmed Aiwyn to put on the blog.  Our laptop crashed that day and then I couldn't get the videos to upload on our desktop (too slow) when I still tried to post.  So please scroll down to March 11th if you would like to see the videos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-55679604717787267?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/55679604717787267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=55679604717787267' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/55679604717787267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/55679604717787267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/finished-old-post.html' title='Finished Old Post'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1148903993340243725</id><published>2009-03-17T22:58:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T23:26:55.475-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Belated Birthday</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Your Pops turned 30 last week (on the 12th) and I've been meaning to publicly wish him a happy birthday. However, our laptop went belly up the day before his birthday so my computer time has been limited. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off I want to tell you how lucky you are to have such a loving father. He adores both of us girls. And you are very fortunate to be raised in a home with two loving parents who not only love their child but love one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my labor with you, your father stuck by my side. In all of those long 55 hours of labor, there was probably only 45 minutes total that he wasn't by my side (including bathroom breaks). He was my most attentive nurse. Some of things that he did for me include: fetching objects (like a magazine or more water), searching on-line for accupressure points (I left the printed out copy at work) and then doing the pressure points on me, helping me get to the bathroom (with all the equipment I was attached to), rubbing my back and even putting my hair up for me. But most importantly of all he was my never ending support and encouragement. He continued to tell me I could do this and I was awesome and wonderful. (THANK YOU, BRIAN)  The great thing is that we both will have comfort in knowing that your Pops is there for us. He loves us, and I mean REALLY LOVES US and he will always take care of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 PROUD POPS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBoj-ioQfI/AAAAAAAAAtA/5UovhAJ1jSI/s1600-h/Proud+Pops"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBoj-ioQfI/AAAAAAAAAtA/5UovhAJ1jSI/s320/Proud+Pops" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314362527590138354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       BEAMING WITH PRIDE TO YOUR MAMA (AS I REFUEL)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBoxuTJ1LI/AAAAAAAAAtI/UPQjvKl3FKA/s1600-h/Sharing+a+moment"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBoxuTJ1LI/AAAAAAAAAtI/UPQjvKl3FKA/s320/Sharing+a+moment" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314362763748431026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to your Pops: Happy Birthday, Darling. I love you. I will still tease you that you are "my old man" (primarily because you call me your old lady) even though you have a body better than most 20 year olds and you still don't have any gray hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUCH A GREAT DAD THAT HE GAVE YOU YOUR 1ST BATH &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBpFnpvhDI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/m4qUZHQs-9w/s1600-h/Pops+1st+Bath"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBpFnpvhDI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/m4qUZHQs-9w/s320/Pops+1st+Bath" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314363105561510962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBpYn8-V9I/AAAAAAAAAtY/EdlAkdBYSDY/s1600-h/Pops+1st+Bath2"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBpYn8-V9I/AAAAAAAAAtY/EdlAkdBYSDY/s320/Pops+1st+Bath2" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314363432059688914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1148903993340243725?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1148903993340243725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1148903993340243725' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1148903993340243725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1148903993340243725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/belated-birthday.html' title='Belated Birthday'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/ScBoj-ioQfI/AAAAAAAAAtA/5UovhAJ1jSI/s72-c/Proud+Pops' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-5919949473408348076</id><published>2009-03-11T22:39:00.020-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T17:37:51.651-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pop's nicknames for you</title><content type='html'>Note: I am new to making and posting videos. The following videos were shot on 3/11 and when I went to upload them onto the computer is when I discovered our computer crashed. The computer is now fixed and I've had a chance to upload them again. However, Blogger takes FOREVER to upload videos (it could also be because I filmed for too long). Hope you enjoy them (or some.. you may not want to sit through all of them). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn, &lt;br /&gt;The first week of your life your Pop's gave you a nickname of Morla after the turtle from the movie "The Never Ending Story." Morla is a very sneezy turtle and she makes lots of funny faces as she is about to sneeze. You also make lots of funny faces, not really when you sneeze but all the time when you are waking up. Today I got a little camera happy and made little short videos. The first one is a little long. The Morla faces are from 49 sec- 1:16 and at 2:18 is a surprise present you were making for your Mama.... so sweet. The second one has you making cute noisies. The last one has very good Morla faces and you get to see what a little Buddha belly you are growing (you can also see your very fashionable lavendar cloth diaper cover).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-5c24ffc0b23d87c6" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D5c24ffc0b23d87c6%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C0083A791C0C8E855A72CB393A0DC24DF01187.193790867DA5A8D33DDCF4A064293CF3DAC5599E%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D5c24ffc0b23d87c6%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DN4hP55qiIt6xiwi8mCHFBTurvUI&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b7549e4f7fb9c1c2" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param 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bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db7549e4f7fb9c1c2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D39EC739E4B53F6D50651C9C014E41D02FD033959.786F0A3BF98B0F2484852B3A65DF3EC40DC9883F%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db7549e4f7fb9c1c2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D5zsrjIzfYALBNeX9-XspbwAMY-o&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-aaba7dd93621e197" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Daaba7dd93621e197%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D75FEBA5BBBC849F3662DDF7F276CE7D03A53F48E.7C018B54900BAAA076DAC22E54FBB838E23804C7%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daaba7dd93621e197%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dy7iTAR0PSr5egDJBmxLDWeSf0rU&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Daaba7dd93621e197%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D75FEBA5BBBC849F3662DDF7F276CE7D03A53F48E.7C018B54900BAAA076DAC22E54FBB838E23804C7%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daaba7dd93621e197%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dy7iTAR0PSr5egDJBmxLDWeSf0rU&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other nickname your father has given you is "the milk monster." You get a little crazy when you are hungry. You also try to get milk out of some things that don't have milk. Usually your hand:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-aa07e2db571e0b13" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Daa07e2db571e0b13%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D401E46236CE5ED338958F2FFD1C027463FC5656A.1274C00445E402219F8BD07AA410E25D1B93C92C%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daa07e2db571e0b13%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dpq0xVsxau2tNsVqCBxjJs2k4pB4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Daa07e2db571e0b13%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D401E46236CE5ED338958F2FFD1C027463FC5656A.1274C00445E402219F8BD07AA410E25D1B93C92C%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Daa07e2db571e0b13%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dpq0xVsxau2tNsVqCBxjJs2k4pB4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes it's other things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-50f623ef2995e889" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D50f623ef2995e889%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1FF7E408773E4BC521BC2649EAD4C0F52E872268.19B03E1ACDA048BD2A715CBE3EC547CAD2D94913%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D50f623ef2995e889%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dodc0gbFCkmtwl_Cc9HGWsVtolfI&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D50f623ef2995e889%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331571932%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1FF7E408773E4BC521BC2649EAD4C0F52E872268.19B03E1ACDA048BD2A715CBE3EC547CAD2D94913%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D50f623ef2995e889%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dodc0gbFCkmtwl_Cc9HGWsVtolfI&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use the teddy bear as a wedge when I change your diaper on the pack 'n play because you always roll to one side. This time you thought you would try to use it for another purpose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho, &lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-5919949473408348076?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=50f623ef2995e889&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=5c24ffc0b23d87c6&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=aa07e2db571e0b13&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=aaba7dd93621e197&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b7549e4f7fb9c1c2&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/5919949473408348076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=5919949473408348076' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5919949473408348076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/5919949473408348076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/pops-nicknames-for-you.html' title='Pop&apos;s nicknames for you'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-3048656038191540389</id><published>2009-03-10T22:42:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T23:18:45.386-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='growth'/><title type='text'>Picture Archives</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I was downloading pictures of you onto my digital photo key chain.  Sounds silly that they make such an item... but yes, it's true.  It holds 60 photos!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcoAeVqzmI/AAAAAAAAAr8/nbr0_ZYgais/s1600-h/digital+photo+frame.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 230px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcoAeVqzmI/AAAAAAAAAr8/nbr0_ZYgais/s320/digital+photo+frame.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311758274115849826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received it as a Christmas gift from your Uncle Hunter and I had not opened the box until today.  I knew I would use it... I would be "that parent."  You know the one that is always showing off their kid.  Besides I thought when I went back to work and I was missing you, I could always see you.  (Actually, now I am wanting a bigger desktop version to have at work too!)  I waited to open it until I had a good number of photos of you and I would have the opportunity to use it.  My opportunity is that I am planning on going to yoga tomorrow.  My fellow yogis watched me grow and grow (and struggle more and more with the poses) up until two weeks before I delivered you.  I know they want to see what you look like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... as I was downloading photos, I found several that had not been shared.  So, here they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 Days old on the way to your 1st pediatrician's appointment &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcovtscJCI/AAAAAAAAAsE/9R3IsS5ej0M/s1600-h/IMG_1284.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcovtscJCI/AAAAAAAAAsE/9R3IsS5ej0M/s320/IMG_1284.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311759085691741218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same trip.  This just shows how cute you are in the hat Kate knitted for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcpJRFLo-I/AAAAAAAAAsM/n3T37xS6oxo/s1600-h/IMG_1285.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcpJRFLo-I/AAAAAAAAAsM/n3T37xS6oxo/s320/IMG_1285.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311759524687487970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 month 2 days old (30 days.. crazy short month of February) snuggled up to your Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcqGm2ImWI/AAAAAAAAAsc/BiarUEArluE/s1600-h/IMG_1409.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcqGm2ImWI/AAAAAAAAAsc/BiarUEArluE/s320/IMG_1409.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311760578501974370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 month 3 days old (31 days)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcprPPjMAI/AAAAAAAAAsU/MaUJjGk40Ak/s1600-h/IMG_1413.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcprPPjMAI/AAAAAAAAAsU/MaUJjGk40Ak/s320/IMG_1413.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311760108309655554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 month, 1 week old.  Asleep on top of your Mama, even though your arms look like you are on a roller coaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sbcqfc71vNI/AAAAAAAAAsk/JpkNf0fdFL8/s1600-h/IMG_1434.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sbcqfc71vNI/AAAAAAAAAsk/JpkNf0fdFL8/s320/IMG_1434.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311761005338279122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 month, 8 days old (yesterday's nap)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcrlLb368I/AAAAAAAAAss/nDN--tJ-ZC4/s1600-h/IMG_1436.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcrlLb368I/AAAAAAAAAss/nDN--tJ-ZC4/s320/IMG_1436.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311762203231644610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing to see how much you have filled out from day 4 to yesterday.  We could really tell you were gaining weight well by your fingers plumping up first.  Now you have a forearm roll.  Your Pops and I did not know those could exist!  But now we are glad they do exist because they're so much fun to kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-3048656038191540389?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/3048656038191540389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=3048656038191540389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3048656038191540389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3048656038191540389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/picture-archives.html' title='Picture Archives'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SbcoAeVqzmI/AAAAAAAAAr8/nbr0_ZYgais/s72-c/digital+photo+frame.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4991795003144852188</id><published>2009-03-02T19:56:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T22:44:49.321-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Egleston'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='perfect baby'/><title type='text'>Worry-wart Mama</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that I will worry about you forever.  I'm sure your Pops is glad that some of my worry has shifted off him and on to you, but I still always worry about your Pops too.  His bike riding addiction is not a good thing for a worrying wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I already told you about the stress of your first two weeks of life because we had to see the doctor three times and go to the hospital three times to check your bilirubin levels.  I thought I would also tell you about the last doctor's visit we had (still in those first two weeks).  The doctor noticed that you had a sacral dimple that "looked a little funny."  Honestly, I hadn't paid much attention to it.  I thought it was just part of your "crack."  The doctor thought it would be best to have an ultrasound done while you are young to make sure that your tail bone was properly formed.  I asked what would it matter- you can't put your butt in a cast for a tail bone.  She said it would give us better insight into things.  Like if you were a constapated child we could say it was because of your tail bone or it wasn't.  However, if you are a constipated child, it will be because you are my child.  I'm sorry.  Last Friday we made a visit to Egleston Children's Hospital.  Your Pops was working and I had to take you by myself.  Also, we choose not to tell anyone we were having this test done.  We didn't want to have people asking how the appointment went.  We thought it would be better to tell people when we actually knew something.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we get into the ultrasound room, I ask the technician if I should go ahead and change your diaper.  He told me to go ahead if you needed it, but didn't seem concerned.  I said, "Well, you are doing an ultrasound of her butt."  Then he told me that actually an abnormal dimple may be an indication of something wrong with another part of the spine or the kidneys and he would be looking at the entire spine and kidneys.  Talk about worry.  I ask if I would get the results today or if they need to be typed up and sent to my pediatrician who will inform me of the results.  You guessed it: typed up and pediatrician has to tell me.  But then he said if there's something wrong, they will call my pediatrician right away to see if she wants to order more tests while we are there at the hospital.  So, no news is good news.  As he is doing the ultrasound he is trying to mark the spot where your spine tapers off so if the ultrasound is abnormal then it will be marked for an x-ray.  You were laying on a towel on your belly during the procedure and I held the pacifier in your mouth (only about the third time you have ever been given the pacifier).  At one point you got a little fussy and wiggly and I cupped my hand for you to rest your head in and you calmed back down as I talked to you.  They really wanted me to be feeding you a bottle during the procedure, but I was planning on nursing you after.  You had to have not had anything two hours before our appointment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the ultrasound was over, I was told to wait in the room while the radiologist looked at the ultrasound to determine if an x-ray was needed.  I was so nervous.  I was thinking "What if something is wrong with her spine and she has to have surgeries?"  I was trying to hold myself together as I waited.  I didn't want to be a complete crying mess when they came back.  Only a few tears couldn't be held back.  They returned and told me we could go home, no x-ray needed.  I then fed you before we left.  Your doctor called on Saturday to tell us that everything came back normal.  Whew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are our perfect child even with your "funny looking" dimple.  I worry because I always want the best for you and I always want you to be healthy and safe.  I will worry today, tomorrow, and even when you are a mother yourself.  I worry because I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4991795003144852188?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4991795003144852188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4991795003144852188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4991795003144852188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4991795003144852188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/worry-wart-mama.html' title='Worry-wart Mama'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-9075572460131457676</id><published>2009-03-01T20:37:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T21:40:40.739-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sewing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>One Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SatFOeAfJEI/AAAAAAAAArk/l9-ZM-M0cMU/s1600-h/IMG_1373.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SatFOeAfJEI/AAAAAAAAArk/l9-ZM-M0cMU/s320/IMG_1373.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308412700661851202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Today you are one month old.  Look at all the rolls you are getting.  I love your cute, slightly chubby body.  Today your Pops had planned a "meet Aiwyn cook-out" for today.  He came up with the idea a few weeks ago and wanted to introduce his pride and joy to all our friends.  I was a little weary when he first presented me with the idea, but he reassured me that he was going to do all the shopping, cooking and help clean.  He stood true to his word: he did all the shopping yesterday, he was up at 8:30am prepping and cooking this morning and he helped clean.  However, the weather had a different idea... it's snowing.  Let me say that again:  IT'S SNOWING.... IN GEORGIA!!!  All our friends canceled due to the weather and a few of them were sick.  The strangest thing is that Thursday (as in 3 days ago) it was 65 degrees outside and we went for a walk at the park and I was wearing short-sleeves.  It's a little sad that we didn't get to have your cook-out today.  I really was looking forward to seeing all our friends and your Pops really put a lot of effort into preparing everything.  We were going to have hamburgers, hot dogs, the GRIT mac &amp; cheese, homemade guacamole, brownies, and lemon cake.  We'll have to plan another event for you to meet the rest of the gang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SatFrNMqNkI/AAAAAAAAArs/SU1OESH7O2c/s1600-h/IMG_1388.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SatFrNMqNkI/AAAAAAAAArs/SU1OESH7O2c/s320/IMG_1388.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308413194365711938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, you stayed snuggly warm in you snuggle blanket that I finally finished making.  I started making it months ago and got stuck because the pattern called for making 2 inch button holes in the middle for the tie to go through.  My sewing machine doesn't make button holes that large (well you can do it the old fashioned way with a zig-zag stitch but I've never done that).  Then when your Grandma Rogers was staying with us, she pointed out the holes in the middle wouldn't fit you when your small.  I came up with the brilliant idea to put a long strip of velcro down the back so it can be adjusted as you grow.  I didn't like the look of velcro....so I decided to use a decorative stitch to fancy it up.  The trouble was the decorative stitch broke 2 of my needles.  I had to go to Jo-Ann's to buy some jeans needles (and I ended up breaking one of those too) to finish it up.  All that time and needles was worth it.  The wrap kept you warm (it's lined in fleece) and you were very cute in it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SatF9krBzyI/AAAAAAAAAr0/-l5LztYGwZs/s1600-h/IMG_1391.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SatF9krBzyI/AAAAAAAAAr0/-l5LztYGwZs/s320/IMG_1391.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308413509904748322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-9075572460131457676?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/9075572460131457676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=9075572460131457676' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/9075572460131457676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/9075572460131457676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-month.html' title='One Month'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SatFOeAfJEI/AAAAAAAAArk/l9-ZM-M0cMU/s72-c/IMG_1373.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-2161035202114086741</id><published>2009-02-25T23:01:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T23:12:30.105-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eyes</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;We have been getting a lot of people asking us if you ever open your eyes.  Of course you open your eyes.  You also take after your Mama and like to sleep.... a lot.  But, you're a growing baby and need to sleep.  Most of our pictures of you are of you sleeping peacefully.  We try to snap pictures of you when you are awake, but either you close your eyes by the time we grab the camera or it's night time and we don't like to use the flash (it's so harsh in pictures).  Today we were able to get some great pictures of you wide eyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYVoxcNsxI/AAAAAAAAArE/MdIwBFbm-ds/s1600-h/IMG_1354.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYVoxcNsxI/AAAAAAAAArE/MdIwBFbm-ds/s320/IMG_1354.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306953001113334546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYV61U3DUI/AAAAAAAAArM/3D01qaXUZ1k/s1600-h/IMG_1346.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYV61U3DUI/AAAAAAAAArM/3D01qaXUZ1k/s320/IMG_1346.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306953311393877314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYWFUpRVpI/AAAAAAAAArU/R6ZNXcC_2BE/s1600-h/IMG_1342.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYWFUpRVpI/AAAAAAAAArU/R6ZNXcC_2BE/s320/IMG_1342.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306953491599677074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND NOW YOU ARE GETTING READY TO GO BACK TO SLEEP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYWQPlc_2I/AAAAAAAAArc/Fp0WOn8Y1Yg/s1600-h/IMG_1348.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYWQPlc_2I/AAAAAAAAArc/Fp0WOn8Y1Yg/s320/IMG_1348.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306953679220047714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-2161035202114086741?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/2161035202114086741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=2161035202114086741' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/2161035202114086741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/2161035202114086741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/02/eyes.html' title='Eyes'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaYVoxcNsxI/AAAAAAAAArE/MdIwBFbm-ds/s72-c/IMG_1354.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8548883460113688920</id><published>2009-02-24T20:20:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T20:50:01.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Tribute</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Today I had my 3 week postpartum checkup.  It was more to make sure I didn't have any pain or postpartum depression.  That's a negative on both.  My OB/Gyn office is small (one of the reason's I chose them) and has 2 doctors, 1 midwife, and 1 nurse practitioner.  Everyone working today ooooed and aahhhed over you and all your cuteness.  I had your Pops go with me so I could bring you and he had you in the sling.  All the women thought it was so adorable.  And it is always adorable when you are held by your Pops, sling or no sling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr.Graham is the newest doctor in the practice and we only got to see her twice during the pregnancy and she was the one who delivered you.  Honestly, I was a little worried since I didn't have as long of a doctor/patient relationship with her as I did with Dr. Larrimore and Patty (the midwife).  But in reality, Dr. Graham was awesome.  She allowed us to stay within our birth plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU AND DR. GRAHAM (SHE LOOKS LIKE SUCH A PROUD DOCTOR)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaSipyHV5-I/AAAAAAAAAq0/qT_h0rIIxfM/s1600-h/IMG_1336.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaSipyHV5-I/AAAAAAAAAq0/qT_h0rIIxfM/s320/IMG_1336.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306545099660191714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL THREE OF US&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaSjF1FRXdI/AAAAAAAAAq8/A2iSQbgeXcg/s1600-h/IMG_1337.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaSjF1FRXdI/AAAAAAAAAq8/A2iSQbgeXcg/s320/IMG_1337.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306545581493149138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today she asked if I remembered what was going on when she was delivering you.  I told her all I remember is hearing that her 3 year old son locked her 5 year old daughter in a locker.  She told me that did happen, but the 3 year old had forgot about it by the time she got home.  He told her, "I heard that lady go "AAAAAHHHH!"  Dr. Graham told him it was because I was having a baby and she was helping me.  He was so impressed he told everyone at school (preschool I assume) that his mom pulls babies out and he heard her helping a lady (I am so proud!).  Dr. Graham was also impressed with our 3 day ordeal and how I was still able to deliver vaginally sans epidural.  She told me our labor and delivery was a teaching experience for the nursing staff as most hospitals want to do a cesarean after 24 and most definitely after 48 hours of labor.  She told me some of the nurses were quite concerned after the 48 hour mark (unbeknown to me).  However, you and I were not in distress and there was no need for medical intervention.  So, in the process of bringing you into this world we taught a 3 year old a little about babies and the nursing staff that labor and delivery are a natural body process that needs to be left alone until there is a need to intervene.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME HOLDING YOU IMMEDIATELY AFTER YOUR BIRTH (if you look closely, you can see my braid... hairstyles by Brian)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaSh_nwNd_I/AAAAAAAAAqs/O0xMTsqCGgI/s1600-h/IMG_1277.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaSh_nwNd_I/AAAAAAAAAqs/O0xMTsqCGgI/s320/IMG_1277.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306544375324309490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8548883460113688920?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8548883460113688920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8548883460113688920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8548883460113688920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8548883460113688920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/02/birthday-tribute.html' title='Birthday Tribute'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaSipyHV5-I/AAAAAAAAAq0/qT_h0rIIxfM/s72-c/IMG_1336.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8688881762638261806</id><published>2009-02-23T19:15:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T20:47:01.277-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Weeks Already!</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was your 3 week "birthday."  It's hard to believe you have been in our lives three weeks.  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that we came home from the hospital and other days it seems like you have always been a part of our lives.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first two weeks having you outside of the womb was difficult for me.  First of all you were not interested in eating ANYTHING the first 3 1/2 days of your life.  We were syringe feeding you and you still would let the milk spill out of your mouth.  My milk did not come in until the fourth night (despite trying to pump and get it to come in sooner) and when it did you were still not too interested in eating which caused extremely painful engorgement.  I think we got you nursing on the 5th day, but you only liked my right side and to be held in the football hold (which I do not like).  My left side had a blood clot that made it clogged and finally became unplugged with pumping.  I continued to pump to relieve and prevent future engorgement and we decided to stop syringe feeding you.  We thought you had to learn to suck somehow and a bottle was better than a syringe.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also had a lot of doctors appointments the first two weeks.  Because you weren't eating your bilirubin levels increased.  We saw the doctor 3 times by the time you were two weeks old and we had to take you to the hospital 3 times for bilirubin checks.  We also had to have your newborn screening redone as you had an abnormal reading.  Your second test came back perfect.  Your bilirubin levels have decreased and you have gained weight.  At your two week check up you weighed 7 lbs 15 oz and you were still 20 inches long.  You gained a whole pound in 11 days. It was now obvious that you were eating!  We could also tell you were gaining weight because your fingers were plumping up a little (and not looking so long and skinny!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had a chance to redo your first two weeks, I would limit visitors and phone calls to allow us more time to bond.  After about a week, I was brave enough to tell visitors that you could only be held when I gave you up (which was only when I was eating).  But your father was the one who really rescued me and asked for no more visitors or phone calls until the end of the week.  I think the two of us being together helped you to eat and breastfeed better as well as increase our bond.  This has also taught me to control my excitement and allow other new families space before visiting (sorry Chris &amp; Christina and Josh &amp; Marcie).  I know everyone had the best of intentions and wanted to welcome you into the world (and kiss those cute chubby cheeks) and we ARE grateful for having such a supportive group of family and friends.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since being your mom, I've had a few tearful moments.  I was upset about you not eating and about your bilirubin level.  I've even shed tears in the middle of the night as I'm nursing you and thinking about you growing up.  Sometimes I miss having you in my belly.  When I was pregnant with you, I always had you with me.  I could talk to you or rub you whenever I wanted.  I would pat your bottom because it was always poked out on my left side.  I still pat your bottom and it calms you.  Yet as I type this, you are snuggled up on my chest and I LOVE IT!!!  I hope that you always want to cuddle with your Mama even when you're 30 and you have a bad day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17 DAYS OLD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaNNkY81sPI/AAAAAAAAAqk/nT-Yo9M08p4/s1600-h/IMG_1316.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaNNkY81sPI/AAAAAAAAAqk/nT-Yo9M08p4/s320/IMG_1316.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306170073540833522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8688881762638261806?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8688881762638261806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8688881762638261806' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8688881762638261806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8688881762638261806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/02/3-weeks-already.html' title='3 Weeks Already!'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaNNkY81sPI/AAAAAAAAAqk/nT-Yo9M08p4/s72-c/IMG_1316.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4314387087423222364</id><published>2009-02-21T23:23:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T11:59:07.847-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Generations</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;You have had 2 1/2 weeks to visit with your great-grandmother, Nanny.  She came to visit and attend your baby shower and stayed through your birth (she actually left on your due date).  She lives in St.Louis and we don't get to see her too often.  It is always special when we get to spend time together.  Nanny was able to hold you when you were only an hour old!  She visited often at home and we took her out to a Cuban lunch when you were just a little over a week old.  Before she left we made sure to take several family pictures.  The first two are pictures of the four generations:  Nanny, Grandpa, Mama, and you.  Nanny and Grandpa is where your middle name came from- Gray is Nanny's maiden name and Grandpa's middle name.  You are carrying on the Gray name another generation (Nanny didn't have any brothers to carry on the family name).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOUR GENERATIONS (Check out you smile on the 2nd picture) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDU9_2QpGI/AAAAAAAAAp0/p_lbglLiZi4/s1600-h/4+Generations.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDU9_2QpGI/AAAAAAAAAp0/p_lbglLiZi4/s320/4+Generations.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305474522618569826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDVq2xenBI/AAAAAAAAAp8/JVM-iKl4Jb0/s1600-h/4+Generations2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 269px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDVq2xenBI/AAAAAAAAAp8/JVM-iKl4Jb0/s320/4+Generations2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305475293276707858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NANNY HOLDING YOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDWFNn6mII/AAAAAAAAAqE/nnxvjLmf-ZM/s1600-h/IMG_0273.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDWFNn6mII/AAAAAAAAAqE/nnxvjLmf-ZM/s320/IMG_0273.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305475746087213186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PROUD GRANDPARENTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDXQwv6m_I/AAAAAAAAAqU/jyuMtRAAS78/s1600-h/Proud+Grandparents.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDXQwv6m_I/AAAAAAAAAqU/jyuMtRAAS78/s320/Proud+Grandparents.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305477044006198258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY UNCLE (representing Cooley's!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDXkcJJNAI/AAAAAAAAAqc/B5uKn_Fu8pE/s1600-h/IMG_0252.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDXkcJJNAI/AAAAAAAAAqc/B5uKn_Fu8pE/s320/IMG_0252.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305477382072251394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we need to get generation pictures with the rest of the family!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4314387087423222364?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4314387087423222364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4314387087423222364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4314387087423222364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4314387087423222364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/02/family-and-four-generations.html' title='Four Generations'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SaDU9_2QpGI/AAAAAAAAAp0/p_lbglLiZi4/s72-c/4+Generations.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4789571859347927332</id><published>2009-02-13T00:16:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T19:29:38.143-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Caterpillar Kisses and Milk Dreams</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Your Pops and I cannot get enough of you.  You get countless kisses every day.  Your Pops also likes to give you caterpillar kisses, where he brushes his mustache across you.  Surprisingly you enjoy it!  Here's you in mid-caterpillar kiss at 10 days old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZUDRGW98tI/AAAAAAAAApk/rVzkz16a6dY/s1600-h/IMG_0186.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZUDRGW98tI/AAAAAAAAApk/rVzkz16a6dY/s320/IMG_0186.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302147728598233810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You also get quite "drunk" off Mama's milk and pass out with either your mouth making a perfect little "O" or your tongue slightly pressed between your perfect lips.  I assume babies dream about their favorite thing.... MILK.  This is you at 11 days old "drunk" and having a milk dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZUD4AP87PI/AAAAAAAAAps/GBd_y4aqgvA/s1600-h/IMG_0190.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZUD4AP87PI/AAAAAAAAAps/GBd_y4aqgvA/s320/IMG_0190.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302148396973092082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4789571859347927332?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4789571859347927332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4789571859347927332' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4789571859347927332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4789571859347927332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/02/caterpillar-kisses-and-milk-dreams.html' title='Caterpillar Kisses and Milk Dreams'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZUDRGW98tI/AAAAAAAAApk/rVzkz16a6dY/s72-c/IMG_0186.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-4821724136819203180</id><published>2009-02-08T09:39:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T22:19:31.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Birth Story</title><content type='html'>Dear Aiwyn,&lt;br /&gt;Today you are one week old!!  A lot has happen in the last two weeks.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off we had your big baby shower with friends and family about a week before your birth (1/24/09).  We had a co-ed shower which was great to see all of our friends that are already Dads and to see the friends that will be Dads within the next few years.  The only bad thing was all the men won all the prizes (sorry ladies).  We received lots of well needed gifts and some beautiful clothes.  Unfortunately, we didn't really have time to go through all your gifts before you decided to arrive.  Your room (ok our house) was a disaster!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BABY SHOWER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNO_eumq0I/AAAAAAAAAo0/6pRjBSaMSQs/s1600-h/ballerina+onsie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNO_eumq0I/AAAAAAAAAo0/6pRjBSaMSQs/s320/ballerina+onsie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301668038832466754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOYS AT THE SHOWER (THEY WERE REALLY IMPRESSED WITH YOUR STROLLER!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNPK-oFZyI/AAAAAAAAAo8/_SMAuGcqzaU/s1600-h/boys+at+the+shower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNPK-oFZyI/AAAAAAAAAo8/_SMAuGcqzaU/s320/boys+at+the+shower.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301668236373616418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following week was tough at work.  I had lots of swelling and lots of contractions.  We had started going to the doctor once a week and I was only 1 cm on Monday.  Thursday was rough.  I really didn't feel good at all in addition to the contractions and swelling.  When I got home from work, I laid on the sofa (yes we finally got the new sofa- another blog entry, another day) until your father came home.  Your father came home with a new/"touched up" (as he called it) tattoo.  It was below the elbow (which I had begged for him not to get anymore tattoos below the elbow).  I was so mad when I found out where it was that I didn't even look at it for about an hour or so.  Then when I do look at it, it has your name in it.  I told him he would regret that if you came out as a boy.  He felt certain you were a girl because of the three ultrasounds we had that showed your girliness.  Then I went to bed early.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning was more contractions, but I felt a little bit better after some much needed rest.  Now here's your incredible journey into this world:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday (January 30th)&lt;br /&gt;7:15am I was bending over drying my hair when I realized I was leaking amnoitic fluid down both legs.  I woke your father (who now wishes to be called Pops) to tell him what was going on.  I said, "I think I'm leaking amniotic fluid."  His reply, "What do you mean you THINK?"  I then told him I thought we should at least go to the doctor's office to be checked.  The doctor's office didn't open until 8am and it's 35-40 minutes away, so we decided to head in that direction and call them on our way.  As we were getting ready I asked your Pops if we should put the car seat and hospital bag in the car just in case.  He asked me, "Well, how do you feel?  Do you feel like you are in labor?"  I told him I wasn't sure, I've never been in labor.  I was having contractions, but I didn't feel horrible.  He said, no we don't need to pack the car, we'll come back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:00am still on the way to the doctor's office:  I call the office to let them know we are on our way.  They tell me all the doctors are at the hospital and we need to go there.  (We didn't want to go to the hospital because we thought they would keep us).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:20am  arrive at hospital.  The midwife from the practice comes in to check me and as she does a gush of fluid comes out*.  She says, "Yep, your water broke."  I asked if we could go home.  She said, "No, your in labor and need to stay here."  So, I had to send your Pops home to get the car seat and bag (which was only partially packed and had a check list next to it to finish packing).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*We later realize that was not your water that broke, but it was your twin's.  At our 20 week gestation ultrasound we discovered that you were sharing amniotic fluid with your sibling, even though (s)he no longer had a beating heart.  That's why there was more than just a trickle of fluid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~10:00am I get moved to my room (instead of triage).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk the halls to help labor.  I get an electric breast pump for nipple stimulation to help progress labor (and laugh hysterically as tears roll down my face for the 8 minutes it's pumping).  I walk more.  I eat some spicy food.  We try acupressure points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:30pm I call Sara to let her know where we were.  (It felt strange to be in the hospital for so long without telling anyone). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:00pm Your Pops texts the family to let them know where we were since it had been 12 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday (January 31st)&lt;br /&gt;2:00am Nurses start pumping ampicillian into me since it's now been 18 hours since my water broke.  I am now attached to an IV every 4 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk the halls more.  We have now named the waiting room hall the refrigerator hall because it's 20 degrees colder than the other halls.  But it is the best hall for walking as it's the longest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:00pm Pitocin is started.  Normal rate of infusion is 2 units increased by 2 units every 1/2 hour.  I negotiate 1 unit increased by 1 unit every 1/2 hour.  I was then tied to the fetal and contraction monitors.  My eyes are now closed as I try to manage the pain with my breathing and Hypnobirthing techniques.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:00pm Your water breaks.... well actually it gushes all over me and all over the hospital bed requiring a complete linen and clothing change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:30pm Our doctor decides to stop the Pit to see if my contractions will progress on their own since the new water breaking.  Within 15 minutes of stopping the Pit, I am a new woman.  My eyes open back up.  I decide to drink some cold soup, eat some warm jello and drink some water and Gatorade.  I was free to walk the halls again.  I pass some visitors in the hall that comment seeing me walking the halls the night before.  I replied with something like "Yeah, that was me.  I'm still trying to get this baby out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:30pm Measured 2 cm :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:00pm My contractions didn't progress on their own.  They decide to put me back on Pit.  I ask to make sure that we start back at 1 unit and progress only by 1 unit every 1/2 hour.  My eyes close again and don't really open until your birth.  I quit speaking except for the necessities and start talking in a whisper as I have discovered that I start a contraction every time I speak or move.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~11:30pm  I ask to hear about pain management options other than an epidural.  I start on a combination of Nubain and Phenergan that can be administered every 4 hours, but again I will be tied down to the monitors.  I am able to rest for about 2 hours after getting the combination, but it doesn't seem to last the full 4 hours hours.  I get 2-3 doses total.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday (Feburary 1st):&lt;br /&gt;6:30am Measuring 3 1/2 cm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:00am The nurses no longer let me take the Nubain as I am now 5 cm.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:00pm My body starts to have downward convulsions with the contractions.  I remember thinking "this is how a woman in a coma can deliver a baby... your body will help you push the baby out."  I tell your Pops he has to get the nurse now because I think it's time and I have to pee.  The nurse comes in saying she has to check me and is really surprised to find you are ready and I am 10 cm.  My hospital room becomes a hive of activity with several nurses rushing in with equipment and my doctor is called to come deliver.  She was not expecting to deliver you until that evening.  She had just sent her "Nanny" (her brother) out to the grocery store so she had to bring her children to the hospital and keep them entertained in the locker room until the Nanny could pick them up.  I start pushing with the convulsions as it feels like the natural thing to do.  I am exhausted from the hours and hours of labor.  I scream and scream (but still not words) more from frustration than from pain.  The words that I do say are "Please come out baby.  Please come out."  I am able to watch our progress through a mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:30pm  YOU ARE BORN!!!!  It was scary during the last part of getting you out.  To start off with it took you awhile to get past my pubic bone.  Then the doctor and nurses thought your heart rate dropped drastically (but it was just the monitor slipped) and were quick to try and get you out.  I had a nurse pushing on my stomach and the doctor had to give me an episiotomy as you had a hard time passing through a small lip of skin.  Then you had a nuchal cord and the doctor had to cut the cord from around your neck.  You were completely blue when you came out.  The NICU nurses were in the room and immediately began working on you.  I heard a nurse ask for "the bag."  I exhaustively asked if you were ok.  She told me she was working on it.  Then you made a slight squeak and they said your Pops could go over to see you.  Shortly after you voiced your first cry.  The nurse soon handed you over to me to "pink you up."  I had you on my chest and you slowly started to turn pink.  Your hands and feet were blue for much longer than the rest of you (until the next day).  Your first apgar score was a 4, but your second was a 9.  You are considered premature as you are born at 37 weeks of gestation, but you don't look like a premature baby.  At birth you weigh 7 pounds 2.3 ounces and you are 20 inches long.  And yes, you do have those long legs we saw in the ultrasound! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNQeos5CpI/AAAAAAAAApU/jSp_TaIbWm0/s1600-h/IMG_1279.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNQeos5CpI/AAAAAAAAApU/jSp_TaIbWm0/s320/IMG_1279.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301669673597209234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look at you, I'm not sure who you look like (your Pops or me).   I am sure you are ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL.  You have the cutest chubby checks, the longest eye lashes, beautiful dark hair, and super long perfect fingers and toes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNP9d5oe6I/AAAAAAAAApM/c30BhL-RRkU/s1600-h/IMG_1281.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNP9d5oe6I/AAAAAAAAApM/c30BhL-RRkU/s320/IMG_1281.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301669103762176930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was discussing your birth with a friend of mine who has a little 9 month old boy and she asked "What would you do different next time."  My reply was "Nothing.  I am glad I took Hypnobirthing to help me cope with the 40 hours of labor with absolutely no pain medication.  And it still helped me with the remaining 15 hours of labor.  I did not have a quiet birth where I was able to "breathe you down the birth canal" but I think the exhaustion and absolute fatigue of my body wouldn't allow that.  I was up going to the bathroom and taking care of you within hours of the delivery.  I was up picking up the hospital room early the next morning.  I felt pretty darn good for just having had a baby.  I was not drugged and you were not drugged.  No, I would not change a thing."  My doctor and all my nurses were very respectful of our birth plan and my desire to have a natural delivery.  I have decided that anything really worthwhile doesn't come easy.  And you are priceless, 55 hours of labor was worth it to have you in our lives.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-4821724136819203180?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/4821724136819203180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=4821724136819203180' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4821724136819203180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/4821724136819203180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/02/your-birth-story.html' title='Your Birth Story'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SZNO_eumq0I/AAAAAAAAAo0/6pRjBSaMSQs/s72-c/ballerina+onsie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1782794152042377640</id><published>2009-01-21T19:37:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T21:09:11.509-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby shower'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='max'/><title type='text'>Max was Excited to Have our 1st Baby Shower</title><content type='html'>Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;This past Friday (1/16/09) we had your first baby shower.  My work (old job) threw us a baby shower/ going away party.  It was so nice.  You got lots of really cute clothes, shoes, beautiful handmade blankets, and your car seat.  Mim made these adorable, tiny pink baby booties for everyone to wear and most everyone wore pink!  Mim also made this yummy pink jello, Angie made some refreshing punch and there was the most delicious cake made up of about 24 cupcakes with the most yummy icing spread over the whole things to make it look like a regular cake.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BEFORE CAKE PICTURE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-8KAKJe-I/AAAAAAAAAoU/44TqaB_4tTI/s1600-h/Cake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-8KAKJe-I/AAAAAAAAAoU/44TqaB_4tTI/s320/Cake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296158566838270946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had about 1/2 the cake left over to take home!  I ate another cupcake that night after dinner as did your father when he got off work.  Then we both had a cupcake for breakfast..... I know not so healthy, but thank goodness we at least got another cupcake because Max pulled the entire box off the counter and finished it off- icing and all!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AFTER CAKE PICTURE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-8xkyojLI/AAAAAAAAAoc/-MlU3ar0nzo/s1600-h/IMG_1260.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-8xkyojLI/AAAAAAAAAoc/-MlU3ar0nzo/s320/IMG_1260.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296159246686653618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GUILT (with the cake box behind him)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-9Kl6ppDI/AAAAAAAAAok/KgsyjOuEzKo/s1600-h/IMG_1259.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-9Kl6ppDI/AAAAAAAAAok/KgsyjOuEzKo/s320/IMG_1259.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296159676485444658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day was like having the shower all over again because I got to show your father all your goodies.  He had a lot of fun seeing all the cute things we got.  His favorite gift was the funny monkey.  The dogs thought the monkey was interesting too.  He was impressed with all three beautiful crocheted blankets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN WITH ALL THE WONDERFUL GIFTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-9hQOpRYI/AAAAAAAAAos/00OOur5J0Pw/s1600-h/IMG_1261.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-9hQOpRYI/AAAAAAAAAos/00OOur5J0Pw/s320/IMG_1261.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296160065800717698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our 35 1/2 week doctor's appointment on Monday.  I'm not dilated or thinned yet.  The doctor asked if you were moving good.  I told her you were being quite pushy that morning.  She took a look at my belly and told me I was having a contraction.  Apparently I've had Braxton-Hicks a lot longer and more frequently than I thought!  I've had contractions since Monday morning and it's now Wednesday night.  I went to the store after work today and was walking around more and had a contraction that stopped me in my tracks.  I think when real labor does come on, walking will definitely help it progress! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho, &lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I wrote this post on 1/21/09 and am just now actually posting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1782794152042377640?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1782794152042377640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1782794152042377640' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1782794152042377640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1782794152042377640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/01/max-was-excited-to-have-our-1st-baby.html' title='Max was Excited to Have our 1st Baby Shower'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SX-8KAKJe-I/AAAAAAAAAoU/44TqaB_4tTI/s72-c/Cake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-2018913726783938061</id><published>2009-01-14T20:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T20:56:20.318-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><title type='text'>Starting a new job as I start my 9th month of pregnancy</title><content type='html'>Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;Today was my first unofficial day of my new job (I'll be at the clinic Thursday &amp; Friday and back to the new job permanently next week).  I'm now working at my district office which means I will be closer to home and closer to you and your father.  My drive is now 13 miles vs 26 miles.  Unfortunately, there are more stop lights.  I am giving up my office with a door and window for a cubicle.  Yet the cubicle is about as large as my old office.  I am excited to be starting this new chapter of my career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for you, no new "warm-up surges."  You are out of room to fully stretch those long legs of yours, even though you still try.  Sometimes it feels like you are going to pop out both sides of my belly as your back stretches to one side and your feet are poking out the other.  You are getting hiccups more frequently, which is a little bizarre to feel.  You respond to your name and being moved around.  You still enjoy yoga even though I missed the two weeks after Christmas.  We returned this past Monday and it was much needed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't posted many pictures of myself because it's hard to self-portrait with such a big belly and I always forget to ask your father to take a picture when he's home.  However, I've posted one of me at 35 1/2 weeks taken through a mirror (just a few minutes ago).  And my have you grown! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Mama    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SW6XAA-UWYI/AAAAAAAAAoE/hGsF9PPFefw/s1600-h/IMG_1246.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SW6XAA-UWYI/AAAAAAAAAoE/hGsF9PPFefw/s320/IMG_1246.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291332638724086146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-2018913726783938061?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/2018913726783938061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=2018913726783938061' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/2018913726783938061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/2018913726783938061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/01/starting-new-job-as-i-start-my-9th.html' title='Starting a new job as I start my 9th month of pregnancy'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SW6XAA-UWYI/AAAAAAAAAoE/hGsF9PPFefw/s72-c/IMG_1246.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-3556735093720550215</id><published>2009-01-09T21:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T21:33:07.798-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='maternity leave'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Braxton-Hicks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='contractions'/><title type='text'>34 Weeks</title><content type='html'>Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;We have made it to 34 weeks!  It almost seems unreal that you will be here in about a month.  Your father and I are both so excited and each day we talk about you.  Sometimes we talk about how you will look or about the foods you will like or the music you will listen to.  Each of us project our likes onto what we think you will be most like.  I think you will love all vegetables even cooked carrots (even though your father says cooked carrots are "yuck").  He says that you will probably like "bad music" because that's what I listen to and you've been around me more (at least 9 months more).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we are so excited at the thought of holding you in our arms, we both want you to stay right where you are until you are fully "cooked".  Last night was scary.  I've had Braxton-Hicks "warm-ups" twice before last night and they can be a little scary.  Last night within 1/2 hour of getting home from work, they started.  I decided to lay down in bed and use it as an opportunity to practice my breathing techniques we learned in our Hypnobirthing classes.  Then I started to get extremely nauseous and had some terrible GI issues that I won't gross you out with.  I wasn't sure if I had a slight stomach bug that caused the contractions or the contractions caused the GI issues meaning I was in the beginning of labor.  Even more scary was that I was home alone and wanted to have your father here with me.  Well, the good news is I'm not really in labor.  Bad news is the contractions have continued on and off today.  It seems that you like to push back on my uterus when it contracts making it seem like you are fully extending both your body and my belly.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working full time and running around as much as I do at work and home when you are 34 weeks pregnant apparently gives you nothing but more stress, swollen &amp; tired feet, more heartburn and contractions.  I need to slow down.  I have been pushing myself too hard at work and at home and I've been letting work stress bother me lately.  Too bad maternity leave is NOT a vacation (like some people think).  I feel like I need one.  Perhaps all this juggling will teach me how to better handle a bigger family life with my career.  My goal next work week is to slow down and practice more relaxation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-3556735093720550215?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/3556735093720550215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=3556735093720550215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3556735093720550215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/3556735093720550215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2009/01/34-weeks.html' title='34 Weeks'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-160852870938415892</id><published>2008-12-24T14:36:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T15:12:39.583-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='big baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ultrasound'/><title type='text'>Looking in From the Outside</title><content type='html'>Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;We had a "boutique" ultrasound done of you this past Monday night.  We haven't seen a picture of you since going to the fetal specialist at about 21 weeks gestation (which was a little nerve-racking for me).  We were able to share this moment with friends and family and had the following audience:  Grandma Peters, Grandma Rogers, Papa, your Uncle Hunter, Sara &amp; Robert (who you will probably grow up thinking is your aunt and uncle).  Grandpa Peters had to be out of town, but we'll share all the pictures.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were 31 wks 4 days according to our due date, but you were measuring more like 33 wks 6 days (EDC 02/03/09).  It estimated your weight at 5 pounds even ALREADY!  And we still have ~8 more weeks to go!  I've always thought you would not be a tiny baby.  So I've decided to take a poll on what people think:  are you going to be closer to your mama's birth weight or your father's?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKUElTfKBI/AAAAAAAAAm8/66nUeq7iQdQ/s1600-h/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKUElTfKBI/AAAAAAAAAm8/66nUeq7iQdQ/s320/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283448119313246226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like you're going to have your Mama's nose and chubby cheeks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKUsYXm12I/AAAAAAAAAnE/p2HWyyrW3-o/s1600-h/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKUsYXm12I/AAAAAAAAAnE/p2HWyyrW3-o/s320/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283448803035633506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And your Father's bottom lip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKVAdczohI/AAAAAAAAAnM/ip6Qm8FEinE/s1600-h/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKVAdczohI/AAAAAAAAAnM/ip6Qm8FEinE/s320/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283449147997004306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at that scowl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKVQWqMVEI/AAAAAAAAAnU/Gu8KwOx4JaE/s1600-h/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKVQWqMVEI/AAAAAAAAAnU/Gu8KwOx4JaE/s320/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283449421052007490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rubbing your eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKVfmcK__I/AAAAAAAAAnc/7fN00POmhV8/s1600-h/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKVfmcK__I/AAAAAAAAAnc/7fN00POmhV8/s320/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283449682986205170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at that big foot!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-160852870938415892?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/160852870938415892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=160852870938415892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/160852870938415892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/160852870938415892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2008/12/looking-in-from-outside.html' title='Looking in From the Outside'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SVKUElTfKBI/AAAAAAAAAm8/66nUeq7iQdQ/s72-c/12-V22-V08-V7_20081222_3--D_0001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-7455955487072858240</id><published>2008-12-20T17:56:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T20:55:00.324-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanksgiving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Rogers' Christmas Present</title><content type='html'>Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;You are one lucky little girl to have so much family living so close by.  You are already surrounded by a large loving family.  We spend quite a bit of time with the Rogers family.  They plan a lot of family events like dinner every Sunday night and summer vacations.  The really wonderful part is that we all have so much fun when we are together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our last Rogers family vacation was Fripp Island, SC for Thanksgiving.  The morning after Thanksgiving, Grandma and "Papa Daddy" (you will just call him Papa) transformed the day into the Christmas spirit.  The harvest smelling candle was replaced with a Christmas one.  Grandma was in the kitchen cooking Christmas imprinted pancakes in antlers and Papa was surfing the Internet in antlers.  Later that morning we started making Christmas ornaments (Grandma always has fun crafts for everyone).  The drive to Fripp Island was about 5 hours and on the way back home, I still had Christmas on my mind....I was trying to come up with gifts for Grandma and Papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it came to me.... a family portrait!  Grandma LOVES family pictures (unfortunately your father is not a fan of having his picture taken).  We were going to take a family picture during our Thanksgiving trip, but time got away from us and the weather turned rainy.  So, I scheduled an appointment and texted everyone: "I need you at 10:45am on Saturday, 12-20."  I soon told the brothers and sisters what was going on, but kept it a secret form Grandma and Papa.  Finally, the week before they were told to wear dark jeans and a blue long-sleeved top (I figured they had to have some warning in case laundry had to be done).  Grandma suspected pictures after she was told what to wear, but was unsure due to your father dislike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, today was the today.  And I have to say we have quite a beautiful family!  The pictures are gorgeous (I'll try to post some later- I have to get Grandma to send me some via e-mail)!  I am excited at the thought of our next family pictures for two reasons: #1 (the most important reason) is that you will be in that picture with all your cousins and #2 I won't look so much like a boat!  We had so much fun laughing at each other trying to get the grandchildren to look at the camera and smile- we looked certifiably crazy!  Then we all went out to lunch at the Macaroni Grill and we both enjoyed some yummy fettuccine alfredo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we all had a great time together as we made a lasting memory of our family.  Also, the outing taught me, I need to carry my camera around to snap pictures for you and our posts.  (I've included some of the Thanksgiving trip).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FOdt_dlI/AAAAAAAAAmk/elPfWaikcmg/s1600-h/IMG_1168.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FOdt_dlI/AAAAAAAAAmk/elPfWaikcmg/s320/IMG_1168.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282024421517653586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FNtljbyI/AAAAAAAAAmc/bVVQBHvnaew/s1600-h/IMG_1167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FNtljbyI/AAAAAAAAAmc/bVVQBHvnaew/s320/IMG_1167.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282024408597360418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FNPXZ10I/AAAAAAAAAmU/X5yx-j3h7bg/s1600-h/IMG_1158.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FNPXZ10I/AAAAAAAAAmU/X5yx-j3h7bg/s320/IMG_1158.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282024400484947778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FM6rCk9I/AAAAAAAAAmM/VW9ASGHnfIs/s1600-h/IMG_1165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FM6rCk9I/AAAAAAAAAmM/VW9ASGHnfIs/s320/IMG_1165.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282024394930164690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-7455955487072858240?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/7455955487072858240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=7455955487072858240' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7455955487072858240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/7455955487072858240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2008/12/rogers-christmas-present.html' title='Rogers&apos; Christmas Present'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SU2FOdt_dlI/AAAAAAAAAmk/elPfWaikcmg/s72-c/IMG_1168.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-8636403568192559337</id><published>2008-12-16T21:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T21:35:09.269-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old wives tale'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heartburn'/><title type='text'>Old Wives Tale?</title><content type='html'>Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;I try to be so healthy to make sure you are healthy.  I hardly take a Tylenol for a headache, but I broke down big time yesterday.  First off, I've been sick with a head cold and just been eating chicken noodle soup, pushing the fluids, and trying to rest as much as possible.  Yesterday I had to work and couldn't take the pressure in my head so I took one Mucinex (it's on the list of ok medications to take during pregnancy).  Well my head wasn't so clogged, but I don't think my patients appreciated me constantly dabbing at my nose so I wasn't dripping on their charts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then in a not so healthy impulse, I stopped to get a pepperoni calazone on the way home.  You will one day understand that your father makes pizza and calazones that are like crack... sometimes you just have to have one!  I grabbed a Sprite to wash it down and drank about 1/4 of the 20 oz bottle with the calazone.  Shortly after eating I went to bed to read and ended up falling asleep about 8:30pm (again the head cold did me in).  It was not restful sleep as I kept waking up with some heartburn.  About 10:00pm I got up to take some Tums and in desperation I mean to say some was really 6 Tums.  About 11:00pm I couldn't handle it anymore.  I had the lovely searing heartburn with a slight Tums taste now (it kept getting worse).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I came downstairs in my night clothes (which consists of a T-shirt and underwear because anyone ever pregnant understands that your body is no longer 98.9 degrees, but 989 degrees especially when you sleep) to look for a very important paper.  You father looked at my desperate half-naked search and asked what I was doing.  I was searching for the list of ok medications to take for heartburn.  I was searching for something a HUNDRED TIMES STRONGER THAN TUMS BECAUSE I WAS I ON FIRE!  And I pleaded for your father to go to the store armed with the paper to buy me anything strong to extinguish my fire.  It really didn't take much pleading.  He could see the desperation in my actions and eyes and had his shoes on by the time I found the paper.  He returned with Mylanta and Zantac.  I took them BOTH!  I took 2 big swigs of Mylanta (no time for measuring) and one Zantac.  I didn't really get to sleep until almost 2 am and then it was sleeping on an incline which is always a funny way to sleep.  I also got to wake up twice to go to the bathroom in the 4 hours before my alarm went off.  Heartburn has stayed away today, but I carried the Zantac with me to work like a nice lovey (security blanket).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the question is this..... Is the old wives tale true?  If you have bad heartburn is your child going to be born with a lot of hair?  (I would enjoy seeing comments on if you had heartburn or not and if your child was born with hair or not).  'A', I'm not holding my breath.  I was bald until I was 2, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-8636403568192559337?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/8636403568192559337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=8636403568192559337' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8636403568192559337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/8636403568192559337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2008/12/old-wives-tale.html' title='Old Wives Tale?'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1700714347847653527</id><published>2008-12-12T17:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T22:06:23.924-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gestational diabetes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PCOS'/><title type='text'>Good News!</title><content type='html'>Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;As you get older and have to fill out your own medical forms you will be checking several boxes about diabetes.  It seems my side of the family has some "sweet blood" ;)  In addition to our family's prevalent history, I have two risk factors myself.  I've had quite a few hypoglycemic episodes since early college and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;PCOS&lt;/span&gt; is associated with insulin resistance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2 weeks ago, I took my second one hour glucose tolerance test (I took the first one around 13 weeks gestation due to my risk factors and passed) and then found out I did not pass this most recent 1 hour test.  So, I had to go back in for a three hour test this past Monday.  A three hour test is not fun.  They took a total of 4 venous blood draws and I couldn't leave the office during the entire time (which ended up being a total of 3 1/2 hours).  The doctor's office said they would only call if it was bad news.  I was nervous when I saw their number call me last night.  But they knew I was nervous about the results and called to tell me I passed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is great news for you as well.  My body won't be feeding you excessive amounts of glucose causing you to be a large baby (not to say you won't be big because your father was a 10 lb baby at birth) and you won't become hypoglycemic after birth when the umbilical cord stops nourishing you.  You are also lucky to have your dad as your father.  It seems he is the healthiest man on earth.  When he applied for life insurance they quoted him the second lowest tier of monthly costs because "no one ever passes their physical enough to get the lowest tier."  Turns out your father did and we received a refund check in the mail because he is so healthy.  He also likes to brag about how healthy he is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other good thing about the time spent at the doctor's office was I got a lot of knitting done (actually finished two projects and started a third) which is good because Christmas is fast approaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, last night was our last &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hypnobirthing&lt;/span&gt; class.  I feel better prepared and glad we took the class together.  It sparked several good conversations between your father and me and we feel more confident knowing what to expect of each other on your birthday.  However, we still have more practice and preparations to do... good thing we still have two more months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mucho&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1700714347847653527?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1700714347847653527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1700714347847653527' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1700714347847653527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1700714347847653527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2008/12/good-news.html' title='Good News!'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6868919040517266228.post-1156019297312538124</id><published>2008-12-09T21:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T22:05:50.195-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amniotic band'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='miscarriage'/><title type='text'>Let's start at the beginning</title><content type='html'>I've finally been broken.... to start a blog (you can thank Megan &amp;amp; Susan).  My decision to blog was to preserve all the special moments in our family life.  'A' is our unborn daughter, to arrive sometime in February.   So, let's start at the beginning....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear 'A',&lt;br /&gt;I am 30 weeks pregnant with you as I write this first official letter to you.  Seems a little late to begin writing, but I'll get to that.  I want to start by letting you know how much you are loved and wanted even before you were conceived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your father and I always knew we wanted children and we began preparing before we even started "trying."  Trying took longer than we expected.  Waiting for that positive pregnancy test was difficult.    We finally got a positive pregnancy test in May 2007 and our due date was February 19, 2008.  But in July 2007, we found out we had miscarried.  We never got to see Sam's heartbeat and my body did not want to let go of Sam.  So, one week after my 29&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday I had my first surgery.  The D&amp;amp;C was traumatic. It meant the end of our first pregnancy, the death of a baby that was already loved and we envisioned as a part of our family, and the uncertainty of what was going to happen next.  What did happen next was a very dark and sad time of my life.  The world seemed so unfair.  It seemed even more unfair when I still was not pregnant by February 19, 2008.  Your father and I decided to take that day off work to spend time together and we drove up to Raven Cliffs to hike that day.  I remember the day seemed very still and quiet as we hiked in the cool, crisp woods.  My thoughts were full of the baby we lost and the hope that we would one day have a baby to hold.  Soon after we became proactive in our fertility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw a fertility specialist who diagnosed me with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;PCOS&lt;/span&gt;.  I was put on some medications and monitored very closely to see when I was ovulating.  Our first cycle with the specialist proved worth while.  We got pregnant!  Our new due date was/is February 19, 2009 (that's you!).  I went back to the clinic several times to check my blood hormone levels to make sure the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pregnancy&lt;/span&gt; was progressing.  I remember asking a nurse if my levels were "where they're supposed to be."  She replied, "Don't worry honey.  You are VERY pregnant."  At our first ultrasound we found out what she meant by "VERY pregnant".... we were pregnant with twins!  We even got to see both heartbeats (something we had never seen before).  Your father was over the moon thrilled.  He had been teasing me all along that we were going to have twins.  I was shell shocked and full of questions on how we were going to handle two newborns, but still extremely happy to finally be pregnant.  We had one more appointment scheduled with the specialist.  Again, we had an ultrasound and saw two heartbeats.  They were able to measure the beats per minute and both of you were right on track.  The doctor gave us two silver spoons to congratulate us and "graduate us" from them to our regular OB/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Gyn&lt;/span&gt;.  It all still felt like a dream as we walked out of that office.  We joined a woman who worked in another office in the building as we got on the elevator to head to our car.  She took a look at us (what I wouldn't give to see how she saw us at that moment) and then looked in your father's hands and saw the two pink and blue boxes (that held the silver spoons).  Then she said, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Congratulations&lt;/span&gt;, you're having twins right?"  We must have had the biggest, goofiest grins on our faces as we both said "Yeah, twins."  We could hardly wait to tell someone.  So as soon as we got in the car, I called Sara and your father called Robert.  We waited to tell our family in person.  Telling people you are pregnant is great fun, but it's even more fun to see their expression when you tell them "there's two in there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This giddy, dream-like state lasted until our first appointment with our regular doctor.  We had another ultrasound, but were told that there was only one heartbeat.  The other baby stopped growing.  You continued to grow.  I immediately began to feel that dark cloud moving back towards me and I wasn't sure what to think or how to feel.  I had just lost another baby, but I still was pregnant with you.  Your father's and my goal was always to have a baby.  We were still pregnant with you.  I decided that I could not let that cloud overtake me and you.  I could not go back to that sad, dark place.  It was not a healthy place for me to be and not a healthy place for a growing baby to be.  We were told the lost baby would slowly get smaller and my body would reabsorp it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a long time I held my breath.  Tried not to get my hopes up too high.  I didn't fill in the pregnancy journals I had for fear they wouldn't be finished (like the first pregnancy).  We had another scare with you.  At our 20 week anatomy ultrasound we got some unexpected results.  Our doctor informed us we would need to see a maternal/ fetal specialist for a more accurate ultrasound to make sure you didn't have an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;amniotic&lt;/span&gt; band floating around with you.  (The risk of an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;amniotic&lt;/span&gt; band is the baby can be born with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;deformities&lt;/span&gt; where the band touches the baby.)  Our regular doctor told us, they weren't sure if they saw one in the ultrasound and not to worry because she's never seen a baby with ABS.  The scary thing is I knew what ABS was as soon as it came out of her mouth and I know two children with it.  Your father was very confident that everything was fine and helped to reassure me when I felt unsteady as we waited for the appointment with the specialist.  At the appointment we were told some great news and some surprising news.  The great news was no amniotic band!  What the first ultrasonographer saw was the edge of your sac pushed up against your twin's sac.  The surprising news is your twin is still there, the same size as the day it stopped growing.  You were sharing amniotic fluid with your twin.  The specialist told us the twin is safe to still have there and should come out during your delivery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now you know why it took me so long to put words down.  But please don't think we ignored  you until now.  We read a book to you most nights (we've been slacking off lately), I talk to you all the time (especially in the car), your father talks to you when he gets home from work (and before I leave in the morning if he's awake), we painted your room about 3 months ago and have been working on your room, I rub my belly often and push back on you when you push on me, and we are almost done with our six week Hypnobirthing class sessions.  I finally feel like I've exhaled (even though I still want to keep you inside me until you are full term).  I feel like a little kid on Christmas eve when I think of you with all those wonderful expectant butterflies in my belly (and I'm not confusing this with your soccer ball kicks or tiny little punches).  Both your father and I are giddy and excited as time gets closer to meeting you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mucho,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SUB_X1VTSgI/AAAAAAAAAko/bMpad3zS0mg/s1600-h/IMG_1039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SUB_X1VTSgI/AAAAAAAAAko/bMpad3zS0mg/s320/IMG_1039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278358810708363778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Raven Cliffs Hike (February 19, 2o08)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6868919040517266228-1156019297312538124?l=letterstoarogers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/feeds/1156019297312538124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6868919040517266228&amp;postID=1156019297312538124' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1156019297312538124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6868919040517266228/posts/default/1156019297312538124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://letterstoarogers.blogspot.com/2008/12/lets-start-at-beginning.html' title='Let&apos;s start at the beginning'/><author><name>dinisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04751106732026745245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/Sm-DInXl91I/AAAAAAAABDg/Z8K3eq39mBE/S220/IMG_1714.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0fScYjGYHMk/SUB_X1VTSgI/AAAAAAAAAko/bMpad3zS0mg/s72-c/IMG_1039.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
