I probably would have missed Sophie’s one month milestone had I not read this Twitter post.
In fact, when people were asking me how old she was, I would tell them three weeks. Because it really seemed like it had only been three weeks, not four. And honestly, it hadn’t even seemed like three. How can the days be so excruciatingly long when the child won’t sleep more than ten minutes during the day without wailing for FOOD FOOD FOOD, yet it seems like only last weekend I was walking out of the hospital like I had just finished a horseback ride from hell?
I’m sure that one day I won’t be counting Sophie’s age in weeks, or organizing her photos in iPhoto in days. As much as I would love to keep track of what she’s doing each month, I know myself, and I won’t stick with it. And it’s probably the god awful hormones, but realizing this starts the uncontrollable weeping, not because I’m necessarily sad, but because I realize how much I love my daughter and how desperately I want to be able to savor and remember all of these moments.
My thoughts on her first month of life? Exhausting from the long nights of little sleep but fascinating. It’s incredible to me how this little person has adjusted from a nine month long stay in the U Hotel to a cold, loud, scary world. And then I realize it’s no wonder she demands to be held 24/7, a task that was more easily achieved when her grandparents and aunt were visiting than when mom is home alone.
And she’s not the only person who’s had some adjusting to do. In the hospital I changed a grand total of two diapers, being more than happy to let the nurse take care of the changings. And it wasn’t because I knew I’d be changing thousands of diapers when I got home, but because I was afraid. Afraid I’d do it wrong. Afraid I’d hurt her somehow as she contorted her little body while I was wrestling her into a t-shirt. Since that first day I’ve been spit up on, crapped on, and been subject to her death grip suction power. And for the most part, there is no grand master to enlighten you on how to deal with taking care of this baby. It’s very hands-on figure it out yourself kind of stuff. And even though I thought becoming this parent – this mom – would be totally awkward and difficult, I’ve slid into the role quite naturally, I’d say. I never would have imagined it possible.
A very famous blogger has kept up with monthly newsletters for her daughter, and I’ve always loved reading them. I contemplated doing the same on this blog and then decided that I’m going to keep them private for Sophie, in a real live paperback journal (gasp). I want her to have a record of what her life was like when she was too young to remember. I hope I can do it justice.
