it’s late and i should be sleeping. but there are precious few moments these days when my hands are free and so i’m seizing this opportunity to record some glimpses of our life together. you’re already growing and changing and learning so much and i worry that if i don’t pause to write you these letters, i’ll wake up one day and you’ll be asking for the car keys.
one of your most recent achievements is that you’ve graduated from your pitiful newborn yelps to some serious i-mean-business screams. and when you decide to unleash your screaminess onto the world your whole body joins in the action – complete with quivering bottom lip, scrunched up eyes and balled up fists. your papa and i often look at each other bewildered and heart-broken as we try every maneuver in the book to squash your sadness. we go through the ‘S’s (thanks to dr. karp) – swaddling, and shushing, side holds, and swaying…however, it’s rarely that complicated. it seems that every time you are furiously yelling, all you want is more milk. and as soon as you get the goods you immediately stop all the commotion (sometimes even mid-scream) and happily chug away. and all this ravenous eating is paying off – your little neck has been taken over by a hefty double chin and your limbs are plumping up perfectly – which makes chewing on them all the more satisfying.
your papa and my favorite pastime is watching you absorbing the world around you. we observe as you experiment with extending your arms and legs, only to have their reach surprise you. you love the interplay of light and shadow and you adore bath time with mamani. as you nurse you have a habit of grasping at my necklace as if to ensure that i don’t try and go anywhere. you love sitting with your papa and listening to music together, and you indulge us by acting amused at the songs we sing to you on the spot.
i also need to address your lips for a second. i’ll be honest, i have always been a bit creeped out by parents who kiss their kids on the lips, but now i GET IT. your papa and i can’t help ourselves. they are so pink, and pouty, and perfect. i promise we’ll stop this behavior at some point, hopefully before you hit high school ;)
this past weekend i was resolved to leave.the.house. with you. i know this may not sound like a grand undertaking, but on that fine sunday, after watching many a youtube tutorial, i finally figured out how to use one of the baby wraps we were given as a gift, and your papa and i went on our first real outing with you. and it was AMAZING! we walked down the street to the local farmers market and i actually wanted to hug the strangers we passed, just because i COULD. my hands and arms were freeeee! we were outside! you were cozily sleeping against my chest! and OH HOW MARVELOUS LIFE COULD BE!
so yeah, outside time with you is the best and the novelty hasn’t worn off. i wrap the wrap, pop you in, and head down the road feeling ever so triumphant. i talk to you as i admire the spring time blossoms and most of the time you’re bored by my incessant chatter and you sleep in your cozy nook.
i’m finding myself caught between wanting everything to slow down so that i can better take it all in and also this desperate desire to speed up time so i can arrive at some distant shore where it is all more manageable. friends who have experienced new-mamahood, assure me that it will get better/easier. and that’s helpful i guess. but in the here and now, i’m still sometimes ambushed with an unshakeable sadness and a sense that i will never again feel my usual lightness of being. a kind reader of my blog directed me to this post which resonates on so many levels. i especially love this extract:
Not one bit of life is a weight or a measure, a list or a date, a tick or a tock. It is never a result or an outcome. What it is, is a continual marvel, a wondrous flow without distance or gap, a perpetual stream in which we bob and float. We are buffered from nothing and yet never quite fully immersed because our thinking mind keeps eyeing the banks, gauging the current, scoping for landmarks and striving for some kind of perfect, elusive destination. There isn’t a destination. Life keeps going. It keeps going within us; when we’re not attentive, it keeps going without us.
and so i am working on being more present. i’m trying to ignore the clock and the calendar and my inbox. and even when it’s hard, and i’m exhausted beyond comprehension, and i’m worried about all the other things that need my time and attention, i am making you my priority. because you, my heart-breakingly beautiful son, deserve nothing less.