Dear Beatrice...

Dear diary,

I hope you don't mind, but instead of writing to you, I'm going to write a letter to my brand new little girl. I won't always do this, but I need a place where I can put down all the stuff I want to tell her as we close in on her 7th week of life this Friday. Okay? Thanks for being understanding.

Dear daughter,

You're here. You are finally and fully here.

I cannot tell you how I waited for you, with excitement and fear and racing heart and calm anticipation. When you were late in arriving, I spent whole days, laying on the couch with my hands on my belly, talking to you. I told you where we were going that day, what we were doing, and what the sounds were that you were hearing. I told you what I was watching, what I was making, and over and over and over that you should just COME ON OUT already so we could kiss your sweet face. Your Daddy spent hours laying with his face right over my belly button, trying to talk you out into the world. Yet, you were pretty set in your little apartment. You were having none of it. Stubborn from the start, determined to do things your own way and content to let us wait for you.

Well, waiting forever wasn't an option. Once our doctors decided to actually get the show on the road, we spent a good deal of time laboring together. You know what? I'm pretty glad you don't remember that. We worked so hard for your entrance, you and I. We had to use quite a few enhancers to get you moving, and even then, you were determined to do it your own way, at your own pace. It was 30 hours from the time I actually started the first phase of labor until you came earthside into my arms. You didn't come in screaming, or super duper pissed. You let us know you were upset and then quieted down to take in the world with wide open eyes that seemed to understand everything, exactly as it was. It was 8:48 a.m. on March 23rd. You were 8 lbs, 13.5 oz, and 20.5 inches long. Your poor little right arm was twisted back and behind you, and your doctors say it was most likely from keeping so tightly curled up as you made your final turn around to head on out into the world. This action actually pinched all the nerves that run through your armpit, and for the first few days, your arm obviously hurt you. You were instantly using your left hand to wave, grab, and explore all this open space, while your right arm just lay there quietly. We were pretty worried about it, but it was hard to keep that in perspective when you were this alert and happy and ready to meet us.

(SO PERFECT)

I was so tired when you finally arrived. All I could say as your Auntie Courtie and our Doula and wonderful friend Sara put you into my arms and Daddy kissed your head was "I did it, Oh my God, I did it" and "Little Girl, you're so perfect, I love you so much!"

(Just 5 minutes new)

Your Daddy was just as in love with you, from minute one. When they put you on my chest, and I wrapped my arms around you, he spoke to you and you lifted your little head and turned towards him. Everyone was so amazed at how strong you were, and how alert and knowing you looked from the get go. 

(Brand spankin' new family...)

(Dad learning to hold you)

(Me, getting to know you)

(Dad, totally in love with you)

(Such a proud papa!)

We stayed in the hospital overnight, and left the next night. I knitted you a little dress to bring you home in, but it was too small to fit you properly. That extra time you decided to spend hanging around gave you some extra brainpower and some extra size. It was probably hilarious for the hospital staff, though, watching us trying to get you into it...

(This just wasn't going to work...)

I distinctly remember getting into the car and bursting into tears. "She's ours now, really ours, and we get to take her home." I told your Dad. But then, we got you there. and had no idea what to do with you. We changed you and swaddled you, and put you into your crib in our bedroom. You were having absolutely none of that. You cried and screamed every time we would shush you off to sleep and lay you down... 30 seconds later you would come awake with a mournful cry and I would scoop you up and sway you back down to sleep. We finally gave up, and I just laid you on my chest on the couch, while propping myself up with an elaborate pillow set up. For your first two weeks, that is how we slept: Daddy in the bedroom, alone in our big bed with the dogs and cat, while his wife and baby daughter slept fitfully on the couch, your little face buried in the curve of my collarbone.

(Pretty common sight in our house now. You were 2 days old, here.)

Your first few weeks turned into a blur of sleeplessness and sleep, crying and smiling and laughing and cuddling. We had some real difficulty nursing, and had to have in home lactation consultants come twice to help us, as well as having help from the Bellingham Mamas' Support Network and the peer counselors at WIC. It was so hard, and so frustrating. All I wanted to do was to be able to feed you like I was supposed to, and all you wanted to do was eat the food that my body was getting ready for you. Neither one of us could quite seem to get the hang of it. I spent a lot of time crying, while you spent a lot of time fussing and refusing to have anything to do with me. Luckily, Dad was home for a little over 2 weeks to help with the soothing and the holding and the changing and the snuggling. Here are some of my favorite pictures of the last few weeks, so far:

(At just two days old, this was the face that you made most often)

(Trying to figure out what I'm doing...)

(Dad, catching a nap and snuggle time simultaneously..)

(My favorite of your sleeping positions in the first few weeks)

(Sweet little monkey toes at 4 days old)

(My goofball at almost 2 weeks)

(Sly flip off, almost 3 weeks)

(Reluctant to receive Daddy love, 3 weeks)

(Finding your face and figuring out where fingers will fit, exactly 3 weeks)

(Starting to smile in your sleep, almost 4 weeks)

(First bottle, almost 4 weeks)

(Eating Daddy's nose, your favorite pastime besides sleeping on my shoulder, 4 weeks.)

We had all the normal set backs that new parents do. We did a great deal of questioning our decisions, of trying to get out of the house, of trying to stay in and order take out food, of questioning our parenting and wondering if we were horribly stunting you by not putting you down hardly ever, of feeling guilty when we did have to put you down, of being so scared that there was something wrong - being indicated by your constant crying that couldn't be soothed in the evenings - that we brought you to the ER, because the nurse line told us to. We saw your pediatrician 3 times in two weeks, once for the crying, once for your well check up and blood tests, and once for your little right arm. You were moving it more and more, but you still reach for things with your left, while your right often lays quietly at your side. We started you in some physical therapy with a wonderful woman who you really like snuggling.

(First real smile, exactly one month!)

And then you were a month old and I sat and wondered how a month could have already gone by, while feeling like you've always been here. This onesie you're wearing in the picture above was made for you by our good friend Samantha. It says "My mommy doesn't need your advice, thanks" and it's my favorite one by far.... and guess what? You already grew out of it! This picture was the last time you were actually able to wear it, you're getting so big.

(I made you this owl jumper and wondered when it would even fit you, it looked so big when you were born. One short month later, it fits like a charm...)

(You can't play video games yet, but this onesie is my other favorite right now, made for you by Gramma Trish, and it's a video game joke from my favorite game. Believe me, when you can play, your Daddy is gonna be ecstatic.)

And then a month passed and another week passed and you were working on month 2 of life. Every day, you're changing right in front of my eyes and I'm staring in awe and wonder while you explore your world and your personality emerges. A typical day for us right now is that Dad gets up and goes to work at our coffee shop, and I feed you and try to get you to go back to sleep for a little while, my favorite time of day.

(Morning snuggles in bed next to me, the best part of any of my days.)

We usually get up about an hour after I get you to go back to sleep, and we do our morning dance of feeding you, feeding the dogs and taking them out, pumping the excess overnight milk, feeding you again, getting me showered and ready to leave the house for our daily outing, changing you several times and then ACTUALLY leaving. Some days, we do splendidly. Those days, we meet up with friends old and new, run errands, and visit Dad at work so he can kiss you in the middle of the day instead of sending me sad messages that he misses you and won't I please please bring you down so he can see you. Some days, we don't do splendidly. Those are the days that Dad will come home from work to no chores done, no showers taken, you in a diaper and blanket because you've hosed all of your clean clothing down with one body fluid or another and me in my pajamas, begging him to hold you so I can eat a bowl of soggy cereal I poured four hours ago or so I can just take a pee by myself. Even those days, feeling so frazzled when you are so fussy, make me feel like this:

(Mama bliss, no matter what the state of the baby)

Can you see that, my little Bea? Can you see that absolute love, even when you are cranky and crying and throwing up in my hair? Last week, I lifted you above my head to kiss your nose... and you puked into my eyeball. It ran into my eye, my hair, down my cheek and into my mouth, down my neck and onto the shoulder of the clean shirt I had just put on, and then onto the chair and floor. I stood there in shocked silence for a moment and then just burst out laughing, which of course made you cry. I just put you down, stripped us both down, and stepped into a tepid shower with you to hose it all off. You were not amused at the sudden and unexpected bath, and that made me laugh even more. 

(Look at that determined little face of yours!)

You're changing so much, what seems like every second. I am terrified and fiercely proud of the independence you are already showing. This picture was taken at the end of last week, at 6 weeks old. In it, you are standing on Dad's chest. What you cannot see from this picture is what happened directly before I took it. You are beginning to stand. You DO NOT want us to help you. You want to lean forward with your face pressed to our chests, and push yourself up on your own two super strong little legs. When we would put our hands under your arms and lift you to standing, you would scream and cry. However, if we would allow you to do it yourself, and just leave our hands there to support you once you made it up, you would stare at us, every single muscle shaking and every ounce of concentration you have going into trying to balance, all while grunting and chatting little ba's and ga's at us. 

You seem to be very sensitive to what people are doing around you. Two days after we brought you home, we had to put my beloved old doggie, Noel, to sleep. It was really hard for me, and Dad and I cried all day. You could sense that there was something wrong every single time I held you all day, even if I wasn't crying. It made you very sad, and extremely upset. You didn't start calming down until a few days later, when I started calming down. When we are happy or snuggling, you are sleepy and calm and snuggly. When we're excited or laughing, you're awake and chatting and want all of our attention. I gladly nurse you whenever you root in my neck or make your little snorting noise in my ear, and marvel at how much easier it has become for us, at how much this one thing I do for you fulfills me.

The truth is, my little tiny love, that I have wanted you ever since I married your Dad. You were an idea that took shape when we envisioned our future, and you've been hanging around, waiting for the right time. You're the one thing I wanted the most in the world, and you are exceeding all my hopes and expectations. Even the difficult parts of being your mom make me so happy, I can't even explain it to you. I wasn't aware I could love someone like this, with this overwhelming amount of adoration. Being your mom is something I was meant to do and I am trying so hard, every day, to be worthy of this task. Your personality is starting to show through, and I am in a constant state of bewilderment when I wonder how we are going to get along and how I am supposed to be exactly what you need me to be so that you can be exactly who you are and know that I love you for it. I am already sad and scared that you won't need me when I watch you try to stand without help, or when you work on crawling towards me during your tummy time, and you scream at me when I try to aid you by moving your right arm forward before you can pin it underneath you. 

Know this now: I will always be here for you. I will pick you back up when you skin your knees. I will help you learn to ride a bike and give you the freedom to let you go and learn to fall. I will help you learn to read and then back off as you read to me instead because you don't want me to do it for you. I will help you when you ask me, instead of telling you what to do and how to do it. I will create a space for you in our home, in our family, that encourages you to play and explore who you are and how that person relates to the world around you. I will allow you the space and freedom to feel and accept your anger as well as your joy. I will go to your games, meets, plays, concerts, or recitals. I will always tell you, not how well you did, but how much joy I get from watching you do what you love. I will buy you treats you want when I can and Daddy isn't looking. I will share with you my love of nature and this beautiful place we live, and let you share your discoveries with me. I will listen when you tell me about your day, or a book you like, or a song you heard. I will buy you ice cream and rub your back and take you shopping when you have your first heartbreak. I promise that my life is dedicated to loving you and holding you up while letting you go. I will never, ever stop.

I will never, ever, ever love you less than I do right now. I will never, ever, ever, let you think that you are anything less than everything I always hoped for, no matter who you turn out to be. I will never, ever, ever, let you think, even for one second, that you disappoint me by being who you are. I will never tell you that I think you have potential to be "more" than you are, and make you think that who you are isn't good enough.

Beatrice, my little Beatrice, my darling sweet girl. I will never stop being your mama. Ever. 

I took this picture of you this morning. You didn't want to do our usual cuddle, where you curl into my collar bone and coo in my ear. Today, you wanted to face out at the world instead of looking at me. So, I turned you around and we watched what you wanted to watch, which this morning was Bigby dog, trying to lick your toes. Do you see that dark shape behind you? It's my arms, giving you a solid base from which to explore your world. 

I love you, my little daughter, with all my heart.

Love, 

Your mama