The second week of my life was another great week. I'm slowly uncurling, practicing holding my head up and staying awake to play for a few hours a day. Which makes mumma happy. Most parents would be happy with a baby that sleeps so much. My mumma wants to play.
I had my first bath when I was eight days old and my ugly bellybutton stump fell off the next day. I guess the same thing happened with Brayden when he was a week old. Mumma keeps saying I'm just like him.
My big brother likes to play with me too. He tries to give me a pacifier all the time but I don't really want one. He tickles my toes all the time and likes to hold me too. So far, I think it's safe to say he's a good brother and will take good care of me.
When I was nine days old, mumma got a phone call from my doctor and was very sad. My newborn screen came back positive with a Cystic Fibrosis cell. She didn't quite know or understand what that meant. After a few days she did some research and found out that I am a "carrier" of a gene and don't actually have Cystic Fibrosis. I will have to go to the hospital for a retest in a few weeks. For now, we wait. Mumma isn't freaked out anymore, but dada is. The test can't happen soon enough so my parents can quit worrying.
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