Today you are one month old! As most milestones in your life will be for me, it’s a bittersweet celebration. I know that you have to grow and get older, but every pound you gain means that you are that much further away from being my tiny baby girl. Even though during delivery, eight pounds didn’t feel quite so tiny.
In just four weeks, you’ve grown more alert and will spend a half hour with your eyes wide open soaking up whatever or whoever is in front of you. Most of the time, that’s me. Sometimes I will talk or sing in nonsensical rhymes. Other times I will narrate our day or remind you of the exciting things that you’ve done lately, like trips to BeeMaw and Abuelo’s house, meeting Grandma and Grandpa Noa, being the center of a tug of war between Aunt Ally and Uncle Tony, Skyping with your cousin Sarah, and a handful of trips to the doctor’s office. I’ve already read you a few books and some of the top stories from CNN’s web site. And once I read you the Miami Dolphins scouting report. I like to go over our family tree, too, because there are lots of names for you to store in that little head. I’m not worried about that, though, because your dad and I are already pretty certain of your advanced intelligence.
You are also ridiculously strong. Unlike other infants I’ve known, you’ve required us to hold you with both hands at all times. You have been able to lift your head since we brought you home, and that means any second you will fling that cute hairy bobblehead straight back, and we better be ready for it.
I desperately want you to smile at me. Bribing hasn’t worked, and just when I think my wiles have been successful, you pass the gas that was the real cause for your facial exercises. In due time, lady. You can’t blame the gas forever.
We have also been watching A LOT of television since you arrived. Your first month of life has coincided with the summer Olympics and Shark Week. I know you don’t realize the sheer excitement and glee that both of these events bring to me, but I already feel indebted to you for planning your birth and our subsequent house arrest so brilliantly.
From the second you entered my life, I was forced to adopt a completely different perspective. Like today, for example. You look sort of homeless, wearing the plain white shirt we stole from the hospital that rides up above your belly button, a diaper with no pants, and one sock. It’s 3 p.m. and I’m still in my pajamas rocking a wicked post-partum breakout and those pesky maternity pounds. But it’s been one of my favorite mornings hanging out with you.
No matter how long or trying the nights are, once we are up for the day, I am giddy at the thought of having one thing on my to-do list: spending time with my sweet baby girl. I never would have pictured myself so enthralled, day after day, with an itty bitty bundle of baby. (I miss you if you nap for an extended amount of time.)
Sure, these days do not come without sacrifices, sleep easily topping that list. Along with showers, going out to dinner, spontaneous shopping trips, pedicures and accepting any invitation that would require my being away from you for more than two hours. But you know what? Only a little sliver of me misses those things. I know I will get them back. What I try to remember every single day as you squeak in your sleep and blink intently at the open window and nuzzle into my shoulder is that I will not get these moments back. They are passing too quickly from sight, becoming the memories I will be desperate to recall in a few months, in several years and decades from now. I am trying so hard to stow away every noise, every face and every still moment in the dark nights when you look up into my eyes with recognition.
So while it may seem to other people that nothing exciting has been happening over at our house these past 31 days, you and I know it’s been just the opposite. We’re already having the time of our lives, and I promise it will only get better from here.
From My Whole Heart,