One Month

Dear Holland Isla (Baby H, HIR, Holly Dolly, Muffin, Busy Bottoms…)

Two days ago you turned one month old. Exactly one month ago today, we were checking out of the hospital in NW Portland and getting ready to come home. You wore the purple onesie that Eryn bought for you back in December, the day after I made my final decision regarding my surprise pregnancy. She bought us two onesies and two pregnancy books while we were out at Lloyd Center that Saturday in late December. All we could talk about was you, even though you were still more of an idea than a real baby. The thought of having an actual BABY was still a very abstract concept to me, one that I couldn’t even wrap my brain around. Now, nine months later, you are here, and you have been here a whole month. You are wearing the clothes and using the baby stuff that people bought for me during my pregnancy, things I used to look at to cheer myself up when I was feeling miserable and sad and hating life. Pregnancy was not fun for me. Being single and going through it all alone, watching my friends go out and have fun without me, and spending more time alone than I ever have in my whole life made for a not great 2008. But now, you are here. You are here and we hang out every day and it’s so fun.

You are mostly an easy baby, and for that, I am grateful. We never had any trouble with breastfeeding. You ate well and often from day one. You let me sleep almost totally through the night most nights, waking up only around 4am to eat. You are learning how to manipulate me a little. You know that if you try hard enough after your early morning feeding, you will end up in bed with me for the rest of the morning instead of your bassinet. You rarely cry, and if you do it means I am either not moving fast enough when you are hungry and demanding I feed you, or that your stomach hurts. In the past couple weeks I have learned I need to completely avoid anything spicy. It upsets your stomach so badly that you scream and scream. The first time this happened I called your doctor’s office hysterically crying because I thought you were having a seizure and/or dying. I had never seen you cry like that and thought something was seriously wrong. The nurse was more concerned about me than you, I think. She even called back later to check on us (me). Somedays are rough, and you won’t take a nap, or you want to eat all day, and I think I will lose my mind. Somedays I am so tired I feel like I can’t function anymore. Those days I hand you off to your grandma when she gets home from work for a little while, so I can eat something, or get some rest. She dotes on you way more than she could have ever possibly doted on Joe or me (she insists that isn’t true), so you should feel pretty special.

You look just like you did when I dreamt about you back in December. A little brown baby with round cheeks, almond eyes and tons of hair. Almost all of your features are identical to your father’s, and you look just like him when you smile. I notice a lot of me in your behavior, though. You are extremely vocal, LOUD, and love to make noise. At 4am you will chatter away for a solid two hours sometimes, just talking to yourself. You are kind of a drama queen, and really goofy. You smile and laugh constantly. You make me laugh out loud on a daily (hourly) basis.

This month was a busy one for us. When you were one week old we started venturing out on our own. We went to Portland for the first time when you were ten days old. We went to Nordstrom and I got my hair cut, and you slept the whole time. We have visited my co-workers downtown, my family members in North Portland, friends around the city, and we see your dad at least twice a week. Quinn came to visit a couple weeks ago, and that was our busiest weekend yet. You came with me to three different restaurants, and to Hagg Lake on two different days. One of those days was for Quinn’s triathlon, and we got up at 6am to watch Quinn compete. You were the youngest baby there, snuggled away in your sling, and people kept coming up to us to look at you and tell me how beautiful you are. I get that a lot. You are truly the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. I don’t mean that like, Oh, you are my baby and therefore I think you are beautiful (although I do), I mean, strangers pay you compliments EVERYWHERE we go on how pretty, perfect, beautiful and gorgeous you are. It’s amazing, although I am a little worried it might start going to your head once you are old enough to understand. You are loved and adored by so many people, I think you are going to grow up thinking you are the center of the universe. And you are, so it’s probably okay.  

Yesterday we visited your future daycare and hung out in the baby room for a while. The thought of leaving you somewhere scares the crap out of me, but I really like your daycare and know that you will be safe there. The other babies seemed so much bigger than you, moving around, picking things up on their own. I can’t imagine you being that size, but you will be in just a few months. I found myself daydreaming about your first birthday yesterday, planning what next August would be like and what you would be like, and what our lives would be like in a year. We have lots of time ahead of us, and I am really excited that you are here and we get to do it all together.

Love you!

MOM