I’m taking a cue from several of my friends who are also bloggers and moms (but not specifically MommyBloggers) and marking our first month milestone… I hope to continue this through the first 12 months of Life With Robin.
Tomorrow you will rack up your very first month in your new home outside of Hotel du Mommy. I agree, the first 9 months of your stay on earth were a lot of work for us both, what with all those cells multiplying to knit together a combination of functioning body parts and what will someday be an intellect, humor, and personality.
But LittleBird, I must tell you, those first almost-9 months were a cakewalk compared to our first 31 days together in the real, live, oxygen-breathing world. And this is where we have to make it. This is the world we’ll be exploring together for the rest of our lives… well, at least the rest of mine and Daddy’s life. (But don’t think about that now. Awareness of parental mortality will come much later, and trust me, you’re better not to rush into those kind of worries.)
When we first met, seconds after birth, I had an immediate feeling that you are one tough little bird.
You were covered in white sandy stuff, your platinum hair sticking out everywhere, and you just looked so fierce and bright eyed; you looked just plain ready to get to the business of life. “I’m here! Let’s get to it! What’s next?”
I fell in love with that fierce little swampmonster, and every day –even when you’re squalling your head off and I’m at the end of a rope or three — I fall in love with a new version of you. The snugglebug. The murmuring diner. The cross-eyed ingenue. The bewildered —always bewildered! — explorer. I can’t wait to meet each little piece of you as it falls into place.
Here’s the 1-Month Status Report:
7 lbs, 4 oz. 19.5″ long.
You are an accidental fussy eater.
First, you slept through your feedings. Then Mommy discovered she just wasn’t making enough milk. You didn’t gain nearly enough weight, and Mommy and Daddy worried about you all the time. We added formula to your diet, and you finally, finally started gaining weight.
Then you got sick, and eating was a challenge again (stuffy nose and sore mouth). A week of medicines later (one of which turned your mouth bright purple, just in time for Halloween), and I think you’re finally doing better.
At least you’re on the growth chart now… Hooray!
You are a night owl. I know this is pretty typical for a lot of babies, but wowee-wow-wow. You are up, awake, and screaming every night between 11pm and 3am. At least. I apologize again and again to the neighbors.
You are just beginning to “do stuff.” You are so strong! Everyone says so. 🙂 Your skeeny little legs and arms have been pushing and jumping for ages, and you creep up my chest when you’re sick of being burped. You have been raising your head up for weeks, and now you can even stop it falling down again, at least for a moment.
When you look at me, I think you can almost see me. You respond to mine and Daddy’s voice, and you can track moving objects if they are brightly colored or shiny and very close to your face.
I admit I’m so very impatient for the gratification of actually causing one of those wide, gummy smiles that flits over your sleeping face.
I have believed for a long time now that God brings people into our lives to teach us something… that is, we may have to look for it, but there is something to be learned from each person we encounter. I think now that our long term acquaintances are intended to teach us TheReallyBigLessons… things it will take many years — a lifetime perhaps — to really sink in. With that philosophy in place, well, I can only assume that you will teach me the most important, the most numerous lessons of my life.
It certainly seems to be trending that way already.
At this point, there are 4 big concepts we’re already working on:
Plans must be flexible.
I have never thought of myself as a controlling or uptight person… I like to think I can adjust, go with the flow. Maybe some people who know me out there are laughing into their shirtsleeves right now, but that’s how I see myself. HOWEVER. It turns out I DID have a VeryClearIdea of how I wanted the birth to go and how I wanted to breastfeed you. You have blown both of those ideas clear out of the water, left them waterlogged on some abandoned dock, and stolen the keys to my motorboat.
I didn’t realize how attached I was to these things until they were gone from sight, and, frankly, I’ve had/am still having trouble adjusting to the new plan. But I’ll get there.
Our time to be selfish was very short. It has now ended.
I don’t mean to say that Daddy or I are very selfish people, not at all. But —even when thinking of each other — we have mostly worried about ourselves. What will make us happy? What do we want to do in life? Heck, what do we want for dinner and when will we eat it?
Since our own passing into “adulthood,” we’ve each had about 10 years of making these decisions based solely on our own ideas and wants. Just 10! For an entire lifetime that will hopefully last upwards of 80 years, that’s not an awfully long time, is it? And now it’s over.
From here on out, most of the plans we make will be based on you, LittleBird, and how we will possibly manage to guide you to happiness and compassion in life. You won’t know it till you’re own decision-making days are done for, but trust me on this one.
And on a smaller level, at this very moment in time, we just want to know when you’ll let us put you down so we can go to the bathroom or eat lunch!
Nothing is normal. End stop.
And finally, This is for keeps. You are not a weekend project, and learning how to make you comfortable and healthy is not a temporary fix. The hundredth diaper change will not be the last. We still have months of sleepless nights to go. It will take even longer to figure out what will make you happy this time.
And for all that, with all that, because and despite of all that… we will love you forever, LittleBird.