It’s almost three in the morning and as I type this you are currently asleep on my chest. Today you spent a lot of time outside and I can still smell remnants of sunscreen on your head.
I’m sitting here with some documentary about the Amish shunning family members on the television with the closed captioning on and thinking about how lucky I am.
Here’s a little window into who you are right now.
You have started smiling. Once you started, you are smiling all the time. It always starts off as a little tickle on the side of your mouth as if someone just told a joke that you don’t quite get and then suddenly, you get the joke and your whole mouth opens into this huge wide smile. It’s the most beautiful, full smile I’ve ever seen.
You poop… a lot. Dad and I have a little changing station in the living room on the edge of the couch which involves a towel and a huge stack of diapers and wipes… some days I feel like we throw out more towels than dirty diapers. Also… I may never be able to eat another chocolate creemee as long as I live.
You are so strong. I can already, at nearly two months old, put you on your tummy and you can lift your head clear off the floor and plank with the rest of your body. Amazing! Your tiny legs are so strong that you can already bare your full weight on them and when you have to be burped you have a habit of using them to almost spring board yourself onto our shoulders.
You watch everything. You are so alert and sometimes when you cry I think you are telling me,
“Come on, let’s go! This is an incredible world you’ve brought me into and I don’t want to spend another minute looking at the back of this chair.” The minute I put you on my shoulder and start walking around you settle right in and watch the comings and goings in the house as if it were an Oscar nominated movie.
You love your brother. Now let’s be honest, you can’t talk right now or even point. But you do watch and every time your brother is doing something around you, you always have your eyes on him, taking note, wishing you could be joining him. I might have to remind you of this fact as you get older and he starts tearing the heads off your Barbies or you don’t want him near you when you have friends over, but right now, you already love him, I’m sure of it.
Your brother loves you. Your brother and I had lots of time together before you were born and so when you came into the world, I was worried that he would feel sad or not want to connect with you. How wrong I was. He gets blankets for you and binkys. He says goodnight to you every night without us even asking him to. The other day, at the park, he ran right up to us and gave me a big hug and kissed you on the head. You are one lucky little girl.
I can’t believe how much I love you. From the minute you were born, I couldn’t wait to hold you. They took you away to be weighed and observed in the O.R. and my heart sunk. I needed you back with me. I needed you. The doctors and nurses at the hospital would tell me that I needed to try to get more sleep. But all I wanted to do was cuddle with you under the blankets of my hospital bed. I find sometimes I’m overtaken with huge waves of just wanting to kiss you over and over again. Sometimes I think you might even be saying, enough Mom, jeez! But I can’t help it. Sometimes it’s hard not react to something so perfect.
Wren, you were born into this family. This crazy family that your dad and I have created. We sing Christmas songs at the dinner table in the middle of May, dance down the streets, think that farting and fake dog poop is hilarious and in fact, would rather have conversations that make us laugh over ones that make us think. To the outside world, we might seem a little odd and left of center, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love you my sweet girl and welcome to the world,