Thursday, June 7, 2012


[This post is obviously coming to you guys over 3 months late, but I've been trying to take a gentle approach to this space so that it continues being somewhere I enjoy coming and not another thing on my to-do list. So here's the deal: I'm going to write and continue taking photos, but it will likely not be in chronological order. The fact is there just aren't enough hours in the day to do it all and I would rather this space suffer than my relationship with my family. Consider it some new age trendy thing like 'free range blogging' if you will.]

You are a month old, and I'm one month into my life as a mother.

I spend a large chunk of time each day just staring at your face, picking out the parts of you that are of me and the parts that are of your Papa. I fall more in love as I trace my fingers around lips that look like mine. I look into eyes that are shaped like mine. I rub your head full hair to calm you down when you're nursing. I've learned so many things about you in just a short time and you seem to change and grow every day. When we brought you home, you were pretty congested like a lot of babies are. We would call you Miss Piggy because you would snort and snort as you rooted on me. You would rub your face back and forth across my chest and I would smile every time. In just four weeks, you've outgrown that. Just a few days ago I figured out that you don't like to be swaddled anymore. You like to sleep on your side or belly with a loose blanket over you - two things that parents are told are unsafe. I've already learned to pick and choose my battles. I can't follow every safety guideline or piece of advice. We do what works for us and right now, this is the only way we're getting any sleep. A lot of nights you end up in bed with us, nestled under our covers in between your Papa and I. I love placing my hand on your chest and feeling it rise and fall in the night. I love curling around you to keep you warm. These things feel natural to me. We're working on moving you to your crib so that we can have our bedroom back and Mama and Papa can cuddle again, but for now, I enjoy having you close to me.

I've learned that parenting is hard. There's a special sort of pressure that comes with trying to raise another human. Sometimes the only thing that I can do is promise myself that I'll wake up tomorrow and try harder. You're only a month old and I already worry about being good enough for you. Somewhere in that newborn soul of yours I want you to know how much I love you, despite the fact that I lose my patience with you, and despite the fact that sometimes I let you cry because I have to. I have to eat and shower and take time for myself each day, which are all really hard things to do when I'm taking care of you alone for the majority of the day. We've had a lot of trouble breastfeeding, which has made this new journey into parenthood even harder. I've probably faced every problem possible, and you've been a champ through it all. At your one month appointment, we found out that you most likely have 'posterior tongue tie,' which would explain why this has been so tough for both of us. I've had a surge of different emotions over this - guilt for losing my patience with you so many times when you would keep doing something painful, fear that we won't be able to find someone that can fix this or that if we can, the procedure won't work, and sadness that this has to be so hard for you. After realizing what the problem is, I know that you've been trying to do this right and that all of the fussing, crying, and sleeplessness was out of frustration and hunger. This is the hardest thing I've ever done, hands down, but I'm not ready to give up. We've made it so far in this journey together, and while it would be easy to give you a bottle of formula and call it a day, I've never been one to give up without a fight. I'm not done fighting for you. You deserve the very best and I want to give you that.

As we wrap up this first month together and move into our second, my head is full of moments to come. I'm looking forward to watching you grow and accomplish ordinary things like laughing and crawling and extraordinary things that only you can dream. I'm trying my hardest to store the little things about you in my memory - the little swirl of hair on the back of your head, the way you sit with your legs curled up and belly sticking out - just like a frog, the smacking noises I hear each morning as you try your best to fit both hands in your little mouth, the crooked smile you give, the way you stick out your tongue and smack your lips as you watch me eat from the carrier, the walks you take on Papa's chest. We love you, Evie Idella - more than bears love honey (and everyone knows that's an awful lot).



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