I hate that I haven’t written down more. I don’t have the time to write every day and that’s the pace at which I’d have to write to keep up with her. We hit the six-week mark this past Tuesday and I’m dumbfounded by that. How is that possible? She has grown and changed so much in that time already, it almost makes my heart ache to know how much she’ll change in the coming year, and yet I’m anxious for all of it. We attended my cousin’s first birthday party this weekend and I teared up a bit during the happy birthday song thinking that a year from now my baby won’t be such a baby – she’ll be that two-foot tall giant in the chair eating cake. Tear!
The other day I placed Paisley in her car seat and realized she fills it out quite a bit; she’s not the tiny ball that just sort of slumps down in the bottom and we finagle the straps to hold her in place. That was the first realization that she really had outgrown the “brand new baby” size. Break my heart! I weighed her at Shelton’s parents’ house last weekend and she was nine pounds. NINE POUNDS! That’s two whole pounds heavier than when she was born. Again, break my heart!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m so anxious to watch her grow and change and develop, to see her learn new things and put them into practice. But there’s not a mama out there who can argue that this handful-size of baby isn’t the most perfect time in their lives. When I get her ready for bed, I hold her asleep in my arms just a little longer, because she won’t be this perfect cuddle size forever.
In the past couple of weeks she’s been a very busy little girl. We took her to meet the entire OKC crew – which includes the Koskie family and so many of our friends. It was four very busy days and she kept up with us very well. It was fun showing her off to some of the most important people in our lives. She was a perfect little traveler, not a peep during the three hour trip down or back home. And I managed to not pack every single of one her belongings, just a bag of clothes and a bag of supplies! I stopped breastfeeding on this trip. Before the “Breastfeeding Propoganda” crew decides to hang me in a tree by my toenails and tell me that my baby won’t learn to walk until she’s seven, know that this was the best decision for us and I’ll explain more about my breastfeeding experience in another post.
She started smiling. Oh dear god did she start smiling! It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. First for her daddy, then for her grandfathers, and then finally for me! I didn’t have to resort to a Friends-inspired Baby Got Back rendition, but I did have to make that vibrating-blow noise with my tongue for a substantial amount of time. Now it’s fairly regular and is accompanied by “talking” – her little coos. The best sound in the world.
We moved her from our room to her room this past week. She’s been sleeping so well through the night, about 6-8 hours at a stretch, that we thought it was time. That’s where she naps during the day, in her crib, and so it wasn’t an unfamiliar place. The first night was terribly stormy, but she slept seven uninterrupted hours; I did not so much, but the three of us have been fine ever since.
Last night she had another first – rubbing her eyes. That poor baby was so tired after we drug her through the most ridiculously scheduled day. Again, such a little trooper for keeping up with us in spite of her lacking nap schedule. We got home and as I put her jammies on her teensy little fist just rubbed her eyes; she did it again tonight in her bath.
I’m just in love. In a classically cliche way, I’m in love in a way I never knew possible. I knew I wanted to be a mom, and I knew it would be pretty amazing. I can’t push the bar high enough to describe how much better this is than any expectation, dream or assumption I had. It’s indescribable. This is without a doubt the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and Shelton. She is perfect in every way and a sweet, wiggling, beautiful reminder of how truly blessed and abundant our life is.