Today is July 23rd, which means that tomorrow is July 24th. Ellie's first birthday.
Let's have a little look-see in the memory files...
After E. was born, the two days in the hospital flew by. I have just a few sharp memories from within that blur: the nurse that held E. in the middle of the night so BK and I could get just a little bit of actual sleep; sitting up straight out of slumber at E.'s tiny little cry and realizing BK had done the same; nursing for the first time; how piercingly gray her eyes were, like slate; her funny little cone head... OK, more than a few memories.
The day we went home, about 20 steps from the entrance to the hospital, with E. in her infant carseat carried by one of the fantastic Meriter nurses, and me shuffling along stealing glances down at my baby girl, I lost it. The tears started and didn't stop for nearly an hour. This wonderful nurse, who's face I still remember but who's name is lost in the blur, stopped walking and gave me a minute to compose myself before she asked if I was alright. I nodded yes, unable to speak. (If you know me, when I cry I can't talk, and once I start crying it can take awhile to calm down. This poor nurse had no clue.) I took a couple big, shaky, sobby breaths. She looked right in my eyes, and firmly asked me if I was scared to go home, if it was safe to go home. OH GOD, of course it's safe to go home! How sweet of you to make sure me and my baby girl aren't returning to an abusive home! That was a weird moment. I managed to eek out that, you know, it's just... a lot. A big change. She nodded. And we started walking again.
And you know how this part of the story goes: I cried all the way home. I sat in the back with E. while daddy drove. I don't think I've ever had a more nerve wracking drive; man, was I scared someone was going to run a stopsign or something. All I could do, though, was watch her through my tears. I think maybe my sister called. And the whole time, E. was oblivious to her first ride in a car. Her first time outdoors, even! I think she slept most of the ride? So I was still crying when we pulled into the garage, where my mom greeted us, first with a big smile and then through a forced smile as she searched my face for the reason I was crying. I sort of smiled and waved it off. She gave me her patented head to the side, half-smile look, the one that says, yeah, I know, and it'll get better.
Nobody let me carry anything (an unknown perk of the new mama, and once I'd figured it out, I didn't carry anything except my daughter). We walked into the house and BK set the car seat down in the living room. Maybe I adjusted E.'s blanket... But what I clearly remember was walking into the kitchen, standing next to my mom, and whispering: "There's a baby in the house."
And from there the blur kicks in again, as any new parent knows. Greatly contributed to by an amazing lack of sleep! I remember my milk coming in, quite clearly. I remember crying myself to sleep, more than once. I remember my dad visiting and holding E. with his oh-so-special stiff smile, which I think he uses to protect himself from tears. I remember my mom leaving. And I remember smiling and being tremendously happy. I still am.
About the crying, my body was really thrown for a loop. I even cried looking at my maternity clothes, thinking, crazily, that I wanted to still be pregnant. It wasn't for a couple more months that I figured out that I missed the attention on me, now that all the attention was on E. (exactly where it should be, of course). The thing about post-birth is that you kind of go crazy. You had 9 months to slowly adapt to your changing body, and then SLAM that baby is out and your body is missing something huge, and it quickly changes back to what it was pre-pregnancy. Well, maybe it doesn't physically change that quickly, but the emotions and the hormone changes are intense. It got to the point, during those first few weeks, where BK would walk in and I'd be crying. Just standing there crying. He'd gently ask if I was OK, I'd say yes, and we'd go on our way.
My first crying jag was at dinner, with BK, E., and my mom. Out of nowhere, the tears started to silently flow and meander down my cheeks. I was as baffled as everyone else. It took a few minutes for Mom and BK to realize I was spilling over. Mom was all over it, she knew exactly what was going on. She very simply asked if I was alright; I nodded; and then two beats later BK says "These are really good burgers."
Enough about the crying. We had so many great times over the last year. We took 1848 pictures of E. 1848! And that does not count the super-blurry ones we deleted straight from the camera. I will put up pictures tomorrow (or at least soon). I am too tired to pick them out and transfer them from iPhoto and futz with them.
Things I have learned this year (warning: rambling, awkward prose ahead): That babies go through lots of phases. Nothing with them ever stays the same. As soon as you think you've got it figured out, they change. Babies are relatively simple: feed them, change their diaper, smile at and play with them, and help them fall asleep. Easy! I also learned it's easier to play with your own baby, as a parent, then as a childless babysitter of someone else's kid. So if you think you might be bored as a parent, think again. Your body adapts to the change in sleep (at least mine did; BK never quite adjusted but then again he never got up to breastfeed). Plus, you don't really have a choice. Someone has to take care of your baby, and really, ultimately, you want to do it. Taking your baby to daycare sucks. It really, really sucks the first few times, and then it sucks a little less, but it never stops sucking. Right now Monday mornings are the toughest. Breastfeeding is one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. I had no idea how impacted I would be by what I had originally perceived as a relatively simple choice. I loved breastfeeding. Regretfully, we didn't make it to the one-year mark, but we were close. I really loved it. But I started to get really dragged down by pumping at work. I would do it all again in an instant, though. Babies love to be cuddled and people love to cuddle them. Ignore that pile of dishes, or the laundry, or the email, and just hold your baby. This is cliche, I know, but the day comes when they don't want to be cuddled, or they are simply too busy to sit still on your lap. So get in the cuddles when you can: close your eyes, take a deep breath from the top of their soft little head, and commit that moment to memory before it's gone.
Elliebelly is a wonderful girl. We love her so much and she loves us right back. She does this wonderful thing where she pats us on the back when we hug her. She's also started leaping towards us, from wherever she may be: apparently she has all the faith in the world that we'll catch her, and no idea that injury is possible. Her first tooth came in April 11; the second shortly after that; and we're still waiting for more! Her first word was daddy, right around Father's Day. Then kitty. And I swear she says Ted, referring to the neighbor's dog. A couple days ago she started saying mama, but I'm not convinced she's addressing me as much as she's just trying out the sound. They love her at daycare, and she's started the transition from the infant room to the toddler room. Oh, and she'll give kisses to us or a doll if we demonstrate first. She's an expert cruiser on the furniture. I saw her stand up by herself today. She stayed up for about two seconds before plopping down onto her butt. And she talks. Jabber, jabber, jabber. I love her. We love her. We love each other. We're a happy, happy family.
