Dear Elena,
Happy First Month outside of my amazing shrinking belly! You’ll notice that your very first birthday message is late; you should learn never to expect any better. While I mean well, I’m rarely on top of things.
Today you helped your brother settle down for his nap. You lay on his bed next to him, listening to Frog and Toad adventures while he alternately asked “why?” questions about the stories, patted your head with gentle hands, and rooted around in the blankets like a little piglet. You listened, watching my face as I changed voices for different characters. You became a bit distressed when you’d lay there for a while; your little arms and legs picked up speed, windmilling around as you grunted. I thought I’d have to pick you up to soothe you, but I kept reading, then looked down at you. You’d fallen asleep.
This little picture of our lives illustrates a major difference between you and your older brother. You just fell asleep on your own. Not in anyone’s arms, not in a sling, not swaddled, not while walking around or bouncing on a yoga ball, not while being shushed or sung to. You just fell asleep. While I realize that it’s still early, that you still might turn into a beastly crying machine, I’m going to continue to appreciate you and hope for the best.
I appreciate that I can leave you in a bassinet and that you will look at the contrasting light basketry and dark shadow until your eyelids droop and your lip movement belies your REM sleep. I appreciate that you usually only cry when you need your diaper changed, you’re hungry, you want a change of scenery, or we give you a bath in the big, scary bathtub. I appreciate that you don’t need me to help you fall asleep, that your Dad can swaddle you and lay you next to him and — sometimes with some shushing or rocking, but sometimes on your own — you’ll fall asleep. I appreciate that your favorite buddy is the toilet bowl, that you could lie on your changing pad and stare at the shiny, white, reflective bowl for hours.
This is not to say that you don’t love the sling as much as the next baby. Of course you enjoy its dark, warm comforts — and, during your first few weeks, you needed to take quite a few sling walks with Daddy. But he was already a pro (Sylvan broke us in; I’m just glad we didn’t remain broken), and your crying jags didn’t last very long.
Enough with my amazement and appreciation of how seamlessly you worked your happy self into our currently crazy lives.
You’re just starting to try out your voice, cooing and ga-ing. And, while you’re probably still weeks away from a smile, I saw you using those smile muscles today while you stared at me: the corners of your mouth turned up, your eyes sparkled and your eyebrows lifted, and you wrinkled your lip as if I’d just cracked an almost-funny joke. The architecture for a grin was all there; you just need the right motivation.
This is Elena’s friend Sage, who looks on while Elena does her Karate Kid imitation.
You’re gonna fit right in! You already do.
Love,
Mommy