13 weeks, almost 3 months

My dear Ella Mae,

You are 13 weeks old, almost 3 months old. You are my sweet monkey girl with sour milk breath and delicious cheeks. Sometimes it is still like a dream. I am so lucky to have you. Every little thing about you warms my heart. Your long toes that pinch and push at me all day long, your beautiful expressive hands, your monkey noises, your long long legs, your sweet tiny lips, the swirly que spot on the top of your head, your cheesy baby neck, your little flat butt, your bright eyes, and of course your smiling dimples. One of very favorite things is the way you say “Hummm” after you have been fussing and I put a breast or bottle in your mouth. You make a little “Hummm” noise as if to say, “so there!” or “finally, what this really too much too ask?”

Today I held you for 3 hours while you took a nap. You were sleeping hard and talking in your sleep; just talking up a storm with shudders and sighs. You nap much better when you are close to me. People always wonder what you are thinking about or dreaming about while you sleep. I had never really thought about it. You dream about what all babies dream about, and it’s meant to be a mystery. I have this idea that all babies, especially newborns, are in the process of identity and consciousness formation when they sleep. This is why they sleep so much and so heavily; there is much work to be done. I imagine you sitting around a warm fire with a group of wise sage Elders and they are teaching and advising you on living this life. They tell you about your parents and how to best take care of us, and they tell you about what your purpose will be. This newborn life is a sacred time.

Toady you were a pokey eater as usual, but I managed to get you to eat some. You seem to have no patience for breastfeeding at all lately, and start to have a fit when I lay you down in position. I am just following your lead. No matter how many books I read about what you and I should be doing, you are clearly the one in charge and just guide me along.

It’s already hard to remember what it was like being pregnant. I was so anxious during the entire thing that I didn’t think much about what it would be like after you were born. It’s hard to imagine now, how difficult it was towards the end when I could barely walk down the hall to go to the bathroom. I do remember thinking though, that I couldn’t wait to have my own baby because then I could kiss and cuddle, pinch and poke, all I wanted and I never had to give you back. I remember being excited that I could play with your toes all day long and no one could stop me.

I keep thinking back, to the moment you were born, right after, when they laid you in the warmer and were busy cleaning up around me. Your skin looked so soft and dewy, I have never seen anything so velvety. You were beautiful, and you didn’t have that smashed cranky face that most babies have. Your face was perfect with tiny little features and a tiny pointed nose. The first thing I remember saying after I confirmed you were a girl, was “that is a bright white baby” and “she has her Dad’s flat but”. Then I think the next thing I said was, “those are the longest toes I’ve ever seen”. Later on I named them tree-climbing toes; more like fingers than teos. You were wide awake just looking around and you looked just like a little cabbage patch doll. Later the nurse gave you a bath and that was the first time I heard you cry, you didn’t like that water at all. From the moment that I held you and began breastfeeding, you showed us how strong you were. They called you a “power-sucker”, and you just went right after it.

The pictures that your Grandma Janine and Grandpa Mario took of you just a few hours after you were born are some of my most favorites. Your sweet little lips and the perfect roundness of your mouth are just too much. You had the brightest pink flushed cheeks, so full of color. Again you reminded me very much of a cabbage patch doll; especially one that had as a little girl named Dolores Goldie. I remember that your little hands and feet had dry wrinkly skin, which comes from being in the womb. Your grandma was convinced that you were cold and had you wrapped up so tightly, with your little face barely poking out. In some of the pictures you were just staring with interest at my Dad; both of you had the exact same expression on your face.

Being in the hospital was surreal. It was nice in a way because it was like jumping off a high scary cliff and landing in a soft bed of cotton. As new parents we were nervous and not sure what to do, but the nurses buzzed around and came in every two hours to check on us. It’s a sense of security knowing that if I wanted you could go to the nursery and be cared for by the nurses, and if something went wrong they would be right there. The whole time in the hospital I had this sense that our lives together hadn’t really started, not until we got home and settled in. Part of me wanted to stay there in the hospital forever, and a much bigger part of me couldn’t wait to get home with you.

I also think about the first day we came home. I was sitting in bed holding you and you were very sleepy. You had your little head on my shoulder, facing towards me. You looked like a sleepy little bug with tiny pursed lips. I was filled with so much joy over being your momma, so excited that I got to hold you and look at you. Such a little bundle with all your little grunts, yawns, and stretches. I was so afraid to leave you alone for even a second when we first came home. There was one night I remember shuffling down the hallway to go to the bathroom, dragging your bassinet behind me so that I could keep an eye on you every second.

These moments will stay in my heart forever. Much of this I feel I can’t even describe in words. Everything about you, like the way you moved or rested your little hand and the way you kept your arms up around your face when you slept, each of these things were like magic to me. You are my happy thought, Ella Mae.