May 19, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush,

"My god, he's grown like a weed!" exclaimed our midwife today, as we brought Roosevelt into the office for a postpartum visit. She hadn't seen him since we left the hospital and was amazed at how much bigger he is. "Well obviously you're over the feeding issues," she chided Janice, as she held our growing child. And ever since that visit, Mr. Bush, I've been so conscious of just how much he has grown and continues to grow every day. It can be the increasing chubbiness of his legs or the way he struggles less and less to focus his eyes, but every time I look at him he seems to have changed. And it makes the reality of going back to work in so few days all the more painful to face.



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