Dear Elliott,
Four short weeks ago my life changed forever. It was pretty much the only point of my pregnancy where I could say I worked really hard (although there were parts that were NO FUN, like the vomiting, I can't claim I did anything to do or undo the situation). I found strength I never, ever knew I had and I didn't even think twice about tapping into it. At 11:30, four weeks ago yesterday, I decided I wanted you out here with us. After almost two hours of pushing that felt like 10 minutes, you came out with an oddly shaped head and covered in muck and I glared at the pediatricians who took you away to make sure you were okay, since you were 3 and a half weeks early. Your daddy looked at me to try to keep me calm, and helped me snap out of my tunnel vision (BRING. ME. MY. BABY. NOW.) to hear that you were crying, and beautiful, and fine. Every time your shaky little voice would cry, I would cry too. The nurses and my midwife were still working on me, and I couldn't even hear them asking me questions and making sure I wasn't in pain. (BABY. NOW.)
Then after weighing you and wiping you off and doing all of the things they needed to do, they brought you over to me, in a pink and blue hat that wasn't anywhere near as cute as the ones that my friend Georgina and I had made for you, and they placed you on my chest and covered us with a warm flannel blanket since I was practically convulsing from the epidural wearing off. Your eyes were all gummed up with the drops they give you and your Daddy and I kissed and cried and watched you. And realized we still had to find a name.
The first week and a half of your life was blissfully easy for me, since we had so much great help from Granny Beverly and Grandma Peggy. I didn't do anything but sleep and feed you and eat wonderful food. Then they had to go home and I realized that life with you would be a different ballgame without someone cooking for us and doing our laundry and letting me nap. Luckily we had friends who made us food and brought it over, and for the most part you have been a great companion the rest of the time.
You sleep anywhere from two to four hours at a time, waking up to eat and get a clean diaper. You are increasingly alert in the mornings and late afternoons, and sometimes get a second wind when we are trying to settle in to sleep. Your Daddy is learning to either sleep with his I-pod on or struggling through the nights while you grunt and try to get free of the various swaddling methods we use to help you settle in at night, and although I swore to myself that I wouldn't, I usually drag you into bed with me at the second feeding (2am-5am are not my logical hours, if I have any at all). You don't even have to be swaddled at this point, and seem to roll into my belly to snuggle regardless of where you start out sleeping. I'm not sure if this is because I am a snuggler or you are too, but I'm trying to break both of us of this habit slowly so your poor father can sleep at night too. (Or maybe he will learn to sleep through freight trains roaring through the living room like us!)
We are also dragging out toys, books, and I even got you a swing (for free from a friend!) that you are enjoying with your increasing awake time. It seems like this alertness is reserved for home only. We have taken you to picnics, on walks, even to noisy restaurants for social gatherings and you seem to take the roar of surrounding noise as a lullaby, instantly snoozing. I am trying to figure out covert nursing in public, but we are both still a little awkward maneuvering under a blanket. And your coordination- um, I'm hoping that you didn't get that from me. But right now it isn't looking good for you love, as finding your food source often leaves you looking like Ray Charles, waving your head back and forth until I finally have to do it for you so that you don't get all mad and red and screamy. But I'm absolutely loving every second with you, little man, from the late night feedings to you napping on my chest or at my side, to watching you grin a lopsided grin in your sleep and hoping I get to see it when you are awake, soon. I love you and I'm so glad you are here.
Love,
Momma
*This is a blatent ripoff of an idea from other blogs to write monthly newsletters to your baby to help you (and him, if he's ever interested) in what he was like in these early months. One of the ladies I work with, Ms. Lisa, has told me record, record, record EVERYTHING. It goes too fast. I'll do my best...
