I know, I know. People tell me they grow up so fast, but this is too much – Gem is already getting too big for some of her clothes. Some she didn’t even get to wear.
On Thursday, we had a well baby checkup. At 6 weeks old, she weighs 12 pounds, 4 ounces – up from 7 pounds, 9 ounces at birth. She has grown 3 inches in length and her head circumference has increased by 2 inches since birth.
I worry about how quickly time is passing. I’m afraid I’m going to miss something. I’ve gone whole days without taking a picture of her – and she changes so much each day. I’m a bit sleep deprived and my brain is often in a groggy haze – I worry I’ll miss a smile, or a giggle, or a coo. She is so close to rolling over, she can scootch herself several inches away from where I put her down, she has discovered the baby in the mirror, and when she smiles – my heart stops.
I once heard someone say that parenthood means deciding to let your heart run around outside of your body. I’m starting to get this picture of parenthood as one big, long, excruciating yet joyous exercise in letting go. This started for me even before her birth. When complications started piling up and I spent the 33rd week of my pregnancy in the hospital, I got a crash course in accepting the fact that I can’t control everything. On an intellectual level, I understand that I can’t control everything about my daughter’s upbringing – on an emotional level, I still want to try.
Over the past several years I’ve had several lessons in letting go – losing a job and my father’s death were big lessons. Later I mustered the courage to let go of the income that came from a dead end job so I could go back to college. Lessons learned, perhaps, to prepare me for the years ahead of holding her close, while at the same time, letting her grow.
It’s hard to believe that it has been a month since you were born. I’ve been waiting my whole life to do what I’ve been doing this past month, mothering you.
We had been hoping and trying to have a baby for almost five years when you were born, you are truly a miracle and a dream come true. We marveled at your tiny toes, your long, thick brown hair and your little button nose. Daddy’s eyes are a bluish grey and my eyes are denim blue, but your eyes are the exact color of fresh blueberries. You and I have the exact same worry line running straight up from our right eyebrows and the same widow’s peak hairlines. You have a point on one of your fairy ears that rounds out a little bit more every day. I wish I had taken a picture of it on the day you were born because soon it will be gone. Until then, each day I have to resist the urge to nibble on it – it is just so cute. I am going to miss this little ear point when you get older.
Your arrival has turned our world upside down, and we couldn’t be happier. I don’t sleep any more even though the conventional wisdom tells me that I should sleep when you sleep. But you only sleep during the day time, and I’m so enamored with you that I spend the time you are sleeping sitting here and watching you sleep. Or studying for school. Or writing in my blog. Or washing your clothes. Or cleaning the house. Or trying to remember to feed myself. Oh, never mind. None of those things are as important as the time I spend with you.
I have discovered that there is no time in which I have felt more content than when you sleep on my chest. All the pressures of the world melt away and I am able to relax in those quiet moments we have together.
I love your little squeaks and grunts, and the fact that you growl at my breasts while you’re eating. I cant wait till you start to coo and giggle, I can already imagine the sound of your laugh. You make sounds all the time, even in your sleep. You make faces in your sleep too, and that is when you smile the most. I wonder what you dream about. What thoughts are running through your little head. What is it that triggers that beautiful smile. Your entire face lights up, it must be more than just gas. Whatever it is, it must make you feel really good.
About the name Gem. You already have a bunch of nicknames with family and friends: I call you Squeak, Daddy calls you Angel, Uncle Timmy calls you Piglet, Aunt Dee calls you Veve. I wanted a different nickname for you that would be for the world to use. Why? Well there is the issue of protecting your identity, even though your real name has already been shared with the world. There is the fact that Mommies can be embarrassing when they tell people all the cute, silly, stupid things you do – and to have a Mommy Blogger who puts it in print and shares it with the world must be worse. Maybe an alias can be a bit of a boundary, a little something, even if only in name, to buffer the real you from the rest of the world. But whatever we do, lets pretend like it has nothing to do with the fact that Genevieve is too long a name to type all the time and Mommy’s lazy – Because, like it or not, you don’t get to use that excuse when it comes time to learn how to write your name. Get used to it. Mommy is mean like that.
The Boston Tea Party was a protest staged in 1773 against the British Government. The colonists were protesting taxation without representation.
In 2008 elections in the United States, the voter demographics more closely represented the demographics of the United States citizenship than any election in US history.
Today large groups of people across the country are staging “tea party” (remember taxation without representation) protests against a government that is more representative of the population than any in this country’s history.
Adding spice to the irony – the term “teabagging” that the protesters are using to describe their own actions is a euphemism for a sexual act.
Why do women, particularly in America, tend to have such skewed body images? How do we raise our daughters to have a healthy self image? WickedStepMom, Tricia at Shout, and Amy at FiveFlowerMom – along with several other bloggers – are tackling this issue over the next few Mondays.
This Week’s Question:
“Does how we look at ourselves effect how the next generation looks at themselves?”
I’m new to the motherhood game, my daughter is only 15 days old, but I’ve put a lot of thought into this over the past nine months, particularly in light of being a mother and a role model. Personally, I think one of the most important things a parent can provide, after safety and nurturing, is a good example. I’ve been working on that lately. When faced with a conundrum, I ask myself “What would I want my daughter to do if she were in this situation?” And that’s what I do. It is surprising to me how often my actions are different after asking this question than they would have been otherwise.
This is particularly relevant when I look at myself. I have a bad habit of beating myself up. I look at the stretchmarks and sagging two weeks postpartum and I want to hide. My husband tells me I’m beautiful and I roll my eyes. I’m frustrated at myself for being nearly 40 and still not finished with my degree.
And then I think of my daughter.
How would I want her to treat herself if she found herself in this situation? I would want her to take care of herself, and honor the fact that pregnancy does change your body. I would want her to be able to see herself through a loving husband’s eyes, and appreciate that he finds her beautiful. I want her to see her own beauty. I want her to understand that while we are each the result of our own choices, choosing to beat yourself up over past choices is much more time consuming and less productive than learning from them and moving on.
Yes, I believe that how we look at ourselves affects the next generation. We are their role models. But in this case, I think I may end up learning just as much from my daughter.
CoffeeJitters is an affiliate to a number of sites and services. I do not endorse products I don't love. I may receive compensation if you purchase items from links on this website.
