dynamic elf

Dear Natalie,

You're a month old, today. You've changed so much from the warm, squirming purple baby they placed on my chest. You were wet and surprised, and all I could say was "hello!", giddy to see you for the first time. You are so different from that baby who calmed down when her dad started singing to her, the baby we got to hold while she slept for half a day, and the memory of you being shut in a light box for a day and a half that Thanksgiving is already distant. As soon as I saw you, I knew I would do anything to keep you safe; having you taken away so soon was difficult for me, since I couldn't even hold you and rock and comfort you while you slept. But it wasn't until you started looking into my eyes that I started to feel what a fierce and lovely little person is growing in you. It's clear how separate it is to like you, to love you, and to need to protect you. I'm lucky that I get to do all three.

Today, I finally managed to get a photo of you smiling for the first time. Your father was playing a game with you where he nibbles your nose and then makes a weird popping sound with his mouth and stares at you expectantly. You love this game, so he repeats it over and over. Of course, before this week, we assumed you loved things when you would look at them and not cry -- paying attention to something and not crying both seemed like ringing endorsements. But in the past few days, you've started to smile deliberately, and it's beautiful. You're expressing desires! It makes us gooey.

Your goofy grin:


Of course, one side effect of you having desires is that you often get bored of us, and need to be entertained. Your father has taken up this mantle -- when you start to squirm and cry your tiny little frustrated cries, and I discover that nothing I can do soothes you anymore, he will take you into his arms and parade you around and around the house, singing silly songs about the things you encounter. This makes you open your eyes wide and purse your lips into a little "o", staring around the room. I imagine that this face is your discovery face, as if deep inside you're saying "HOLY SHIT, NO WAY". I have no idea what you are actually saying, deep inside, so until you can tell me, I have to imagine and I'm afraid my imagination swears a bit more than I'd like it to.



In the past month, you've started to smile and reach for things. You reach for my hair, you reach for the cat, you reach toward things across the room and then look frustrated that you can't touch them. You're not sure what to do with them, yet, since you can't always grasp things, but it's clear you'd LIKE to do things with them. Some day. Be patient, and work on that fine motor control. You'll get there. Right now, you've taken to stroking my breast when you're nursing, sometimes (which is so sweet it practically makes milk shoot out my nipples), so I know you have at least some fine motor control. I'm very impressed. Sometimes, I wonder if all of those times we played "poke Spawny while she's wiggling about in the womb" and you poked back with your excellent aim, right where we'd been poking you, you were learning how to organize your body's movement. Of course, it's possible you were organizing that movement so that you could bang on the ceiling and tell us to piss off, but no matter what it was for, that sure was a fun game for us parents.

You're also working on larger physical skills, but I don't think you're really clear on what it is you are supposed to be doing, yet. When we put you on your belly, you grunt and pant and wiggle around, searching for something and working very hard at it. When we hold onto your feet, you push against them and scoot forward on your belly, which keeps you happily occupied for minutes and minutes, the duration of your little workout sessions. I admire your dedication to acquiring new physical skills. I could learn a little something from that.

You're also cute when you sneeze. We love watching you sneeze.



Awww. Do it again!

When you're asleep, you seem to have nightmares, from time to time. You'll cry and wail, and even though it's just for a few seconds -- you quiet down as soon as we put a hand on your chest -- the wail itself is so full of sorrow and sadness that I wonder where on earth it comes from. You never wail like that when you're awake. How can you know what it's like to be so sad? On the bright side, though, you also grin and giggle in your sleep, so I know that you're having fun in there at least some of the time.



Another thing we've both learned how to do recently is to nurse while lying on our sides in bed. You sleep in our bed, for now, and the ability to nurse without turning on the lights or getting either of us up leads to much more restful sleep for all three of us. Last night, your father slept through two separate nursing times. It was almost like getting a full night's sleep. We're all thrilled.

Having you sleep in our bed is lovely. You almost never have nightmares when you're cuddled up next to me, and even though you often wind up in a little puddle of your own drool, you love falling asleep on my chest and sometimes won't fall asleep unless one of us lets you up on top of us to sleep like that.

Right now, you're sprawled out in the middle of our hotel-room king bed, taking up the room on the bed that seems to be your birthright.



It's midnight, now, and time to go to sleep, but I just want to look at you for one more minute before I'm done.



[written Dec. 23, 2005]