A Perfect Day

It rained today.
Pretty much all day.
And it was cold.
Like 40 degrees.
We didn't leave the house once.
It was a nasty, gloomy day.

But inside, your gummy smiles lit my world.
And your squeals and babbles and gurgles warmed my soul.
Inside, we stayed dry and warm, smitten with each other's eyes.

We snuggled.
Pretty much all day.
We didn't leave the house once.
It was a perfect day.

Daddy's Version

I always want to remember the first time I heard TH do "This Little Piggy" with Ali. Having grown up in Russia, he doesn't know the staple nursery rhymes as well as, well, anyone who grew up with them. But Lord he tries.

This is what I overheard:

"This little piggy went to market. This little piggy went to . . . the grocery store. Wait, that's the same this as the market. Well, this little piggy went to the car dealership. And THIS little piggy got a PUPPY!!"

2 Months

Baby girl,

Today you are two months old! I cannot believe it has already been two whole months since the moment we first met face to face. It has been a whirlwind couple of months . . . a rollercoaster ride that has left us breathless with worry and at the same time more joy than we could have imagined. You are the first thing I think of when I awake in the morning, and the last thing on my mind as I drift off to sleep. I spend my days with you, and they pass, one after the other, in a beautiful blur of your smiles, your squeals of delight, your kicking legs, your big blue eyes, your peaceful face as you sleep wrapped up in my arms. I was realizing the other day that these 12 weeks that you and I have together are likely the only 12 weeks ever that we are going to get to hang out together all day every day. I'm not likely to have summers off of work, so this time we have now, this is our summer, our time to hang out, get to know each other, just us girls. And I am making sure to savor every moment.

You have already grown and changed to much! Closing in on 11 pounds, you have outgrown so many of your outfits. Sometimes your dad and I hold them up and shake out heads in amazement that you were ever small enough to fit in them. You are long, and you often outgrow clothes in length before you get too big for them in width. You have started to pudge up; your cheeks, your thighs, even your little feet are all perfectly pinchable and squishy.

You have started to carefully watch things now, from toys to the flashing lights on your jungle play mat to your dad's and my faces as we talk to you, sing to you, and laugh with you when we are changing your diaper. You are a delightfully happy baby. You love to spend time on your play mat, kicking your legs energetically and waving your little arms. You recently discovered that if you kick hard enough while sitting in your bouncy seat, the seat moves! You were absolutely delighted with that discovery and spent several minutes squealing and kicking and bouncing and grinning. You and your dad have the most wonderful conversations, with you cooing or squealing a special message to him, and him parroting it back. You think he is the most wonderful conversationalist ever, and your talks delight you to no end. Your head control is developing rapidly, and you can now hold your head steady and move it from side to side. When we lay you on your stomach, you are starting to realize that you can lift it up and still look around and see the room. And possibly the most amazing development: teeth buds! I was shocked to look into your sweet gummy smile last week and see two white spots, belying the teeth that lie just beneath the surface and that will surely break through sometime before the end of the year. I can't believe it! G-Mommy told me today that your Aunt Katie got teeth at 3 months, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised . . . apparently it runs in our family!

In the last month, you have gotten to meet all of your surviving great-grandparents except one, your great-grandpa who lives in Israel. They are all absolutely in love with you. They can't believe how young you actually are; your alert eyes and expressive face lead people to believe you are older than your two months. You also got to meet your Uncle Brian and Aunt Ragan. You and Uncle Brian had a great time hanging out, farting, and watching Longhorn football. You two are going to be fast friends.

I am so proud of you. So in love with you.

So very thankful that you are a part of my every waking, and dreaming, moment.

Happy two months, my sweet Ali-bear, Ali-oop, Ali-babba, Ali-Ali-oxen-free, Ali-gator, and of course, forever my little Ali-cat.

Love,
Momma

Beautiful

I whispered to you
as you lay sleeping in my arms
that you were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I didn't want you to go your whole life
without hearing that
from me.

One Month Old!

Dear Ali,

Today you are one month old. I cannot believe it.

This month has absolutely flown by in a blur of laughter, tears, worry, and the most amazing, all-consuming love. My days come and go, and I can't really even tell you how I spend them other than taking care of you . . . watching you sleep, yawn, sigh, coo, smile, squeal, cry, stretch, squirm, snuggle, stare . . . you are an amazing little creature, already growing so much, already learning, already changing.

We had your one-month check-up today and you are healthy all around. You are finally settling into a steady weight-gain (8 lbs, 12 ounces today--yay!!), you are growing longer (today you measured 22 inches!), your head is getting bigger (15 cm today!), making room for your ever-growing, ever-absorbing brain.

You are a beautiful baby. Everyone says so. Our friends and family. The nurses at the doctor's office. Strangers. You have big, blue, expressive eyes (we're not sure if they will stay blue or not, but they are gorgeous!) and rich, dark hair that swirls into a tiny little curl on your forehead. You have the most perfect little mouth, and you spend a great deal of your time making different expressions . . . you have discovered your tongue and like to stick it out at us; you frown; you smile; you look concerned; you go cross-eyed; you pucker up your lips like you are saying, "ooooh, look at that!" When we turn the lights down, you open your eyes as wide as possible to try and take in as much as you can.

You are starting to spend more and more time awake, calmly looking around you, taking in the world. You are such a good baby. You don't cry unless there's something wrong. I have learned what your hungry cry sounds like (half-hearted), your impatient cry (a little more energetic), your angry cry (girl, you have got some lungs on you and aren't afraid to remind us!), and today it broke my heart to hear your pain cry for the first time. You had somehow managed to grab hold of a bunch of your hair and you were pulling it; you cried out in pain and I immediately knew something was very wrong . . . I had never heard that particular cry before. I tried gently coaxing your fingers open, but you had balled your little fist up in pain, not realizing that you were compounding the very thing that was hurting you in the first place. After I finally loosened your grip, you snuggled into me and whimpered. I hope you knew in that moment how much I loved you, how much I wanted to take your pain away, how much I wanted to take care of you.

You are starting to make adorable little baby noises, cute little coos that I love to mimic back to you. I know that soon you will start to smile in response to the faces and noises that your dad and I make to you. I cannot wait.

You are a phenomenal sleeper. So much so that we have to wake you up to eat. You are usually a pretty good sport about this very unfair arrangement, and you make the most adorable stretches as you slowly wake up. You are a phenomenal stretcher.

You were given lots of warm-weather newborn clothes, so we've had fun dressing you up, even on days when we just stay inside, just to make sure that you have a chance to wear everything. My favorite so far is a colorful striped sundress. You are wearing it today in honor of your birthday and you look positively adorable.

We have started to let you spend some time on your tummy on your play mat. Yesterday was the first time, and you loved it. You kicked your legs out again and again. It almost looked like you were thinking about crawling!! You are quite the kicker . . . we call you "frog legs" when we're changing your diaper because you kick your legs in and out so energetically. Does this mean that you are going to be an early mover? While I am so excited to see all your progress, I have to admit I love the fact that you stay right where I put you right now. It gives me less to worry about. Once you are mobile, you will start going where you want, when you want. You will start to assert your independence. And I will know that my tiny little baby will have grown up, and part of me will cry for the loss of the little snuggly lovebug you are right now.

So, happy one-month birthday to my snuggly cooer, my happy little sleeper, my observant, beautiful baby girl.

Our lives are one-month richer because you're here.

That's What I Get

You know what happens when you take pictures of naked sleeping babies?


That's right. You get the finger. Atta girl.

New Thoughts on BFing

I've had a loooong post saved in my drafts folder for more than a week now, walking through our less-than-smooth start with breast feeding. I keep going in and adding a bit more to the story, never quite satisfied with how it's turning out.

I'm scrapping that post. The long, sordid details are not worth it.

So, here's my new post on breast feeding.

It's hard. There really should be a public awareness campaign about how difficult breast feeding can be. And I'm not even talking about the physical difficulties, of which I've actually had relatively few (only the occasional sore/stingy nipple). I'm talking about the mental difficulties.

The anxiety over whether or not your child is getting enough to eat (you can't really tell how much she is getting, can you? You can only rely on her to eat as much as she needs).

Over your supply (you can't really tell how much you're making, either. Is it enough to feed my child? Is she going to go hungry? Will my supply be affected if I don't pump after every feeding? Should I be drinking special tea, eating special foods, etc. What happens if I start having too much milk . . . and why on earth would that be a problem??).

Over the feeding schedule (why, oh why doesn't my baby want to eat every 2-3 hours like all the books say she will? Now I have to wake her to eat, and she just falls asleep on the boob after like three minutes anyway, and that brings us back to worry #1.).

I have never before found something so easy to obsess over.

Crazy, huh? I'm obsessing because my baby is a great sleeper. A great sleeper and a bad, bad eater.

Part of the problem (my mental problem, that is, the thing that is making it possible for me to obsess about this) is that she did not regain her birth weight by her 2-week appointment. About that time, I noted a noticeable drop in her nursing time. I freaked. I called lactation consultants. The phrase "failure to thrive" haunted my every waking and dreaming moment. We started supplementing with breast milk from the bottle at the start of every feeding (to attempt to wake her more gently than the bright lights, naked, cold rag, loud noise routine we had been following), then nursing on both sides, then pumping. The feeding routine took upwards of an hour and a half, sometimes longer. It worked though. She regained her birth weight by 2 weeks, 3 days. But I was exhausted. I came to dread feeding time. I could feel my anxiety start to build about an hour out from when the wake up - bottle feed - attempt to nurse - pump cycle would begin.

I met with a lactation consultant. Ali was examined. My boobs were examined. A nursing session was examined. Ali was proclaimed to be a "gourmet diner." As in, she took her damn sweet time to eat. We created a breast feeding plan that got rid of the bottle supplement and focused on responding more to her hunger cues rather than worrying so much about a schedule. We were told to just experiment over the weekend.

It was very hard for me to let go of the plan that had worked so well in putting on the weight. But I gave it a shot. And I'm still trying to give it a shot. I'm trying not to worry when she has a very sleepy day (I wish I had never read that sentence in the book about how babies who don't get enough will often be very lethargic and sleepy). I'm trying not to get frustrated when she falls asleep after only five minutes. I'm trying to trust that she is a healthy baby who just has a more relaxed eating schedule than most other babies.

I'm still pumping after every feeding to make sure that her not eating enough doesn't tell my body to start making less food. I honestly can't imagine a future where I'm not pumping after every session. Hopefully the lactation consultant will have a new plan for us to make that happen.

So yeah. Breast feeding has been hard for us. Not physically. But mentally. Emotionally. It has not come easy. But we are forging ahead, Ali and me. If nothing else, my own stubbornness has served me well in not giving up.

And for those three to five minutes when she is awake and contentedly nursing (ok, I really should say awake and sucking so noisily that I am not sure I'll ever be able to nurse in public because of the stares we would get), and she looks up into my eyes and just stares . . . it's those three to five minutes that keep me coming back the next time.