Dear Meishka,
For the past few days I've really been trying to soak you up--soak up your wonderful, delectable babyness that is so fast disappearing. You got teeth numbers five and six yesterday, you are getting so mobile (even without fully crawling), and you're only a winter's melting away from one.
The other night, you, me, and daddy had some wonderful moments of pure, joyful communication. You've recently learned to do "raspberries" by sticking your tongue out and blowing. You are delighted that daddy and I know how to do them too. You would lead us, we would follow, and after each raspberry, prompted again by you, we would all clap. And smile. And do it again.
After your bath last night, in which you were trying to eat two ducks at once, I tried to commit the rolls of your legs to memory. Pictures can't capture the gushy creaminess of those little kickers. I put lotion on your chest and tummy and for some reason realized that the mole on your left hip that I've been keeping track of since you were born might someday be something to show another--someone who loves you in an entirely different way than I do. It was a strange feeling to glimpse in one small detail the life that lies ahead of you, and it made me feel lucky to have so much time with you now.
You were in so much pain last night that no amount of medicine or nursing could calm your screams. Your poor voice went hoarse. But then daddy suggested swaddling you up like when you were a tiny baby. You still fit in your swaddling blankets, if only barely, and I rocked you in the room I brought you home to and felt your sobs subside into a blessed sleep. I'm glad I can still do that too.
Then this morning you gave me a wonderful present. We were both snuggly and soft in our pajamas when you woke up from your morning nap. You always like to cuddle with me for a few minutes when you wake up, but you're also very interested in the world around you. Today, instead, we lay tummy to tummy. Your legs and arms were wrapped around me and your head was calmly rested on my chest. We stayed that way for minutes and then some more minutes and then for what I imagine eternity to be--not a length of time, but a feeling. You and I in a still center with the world turning around us, the gift of your babyhood pressed into my being forever.
I love you,
Mommy
11 comments:
You're gonna make me cry.
Oh, this is beautiful. It's freaking me out a little how fast babies grow. I held my friend's 2 day old newborn and just can't believe how far removed from that wrinkled little baby Asher is now. I just want to freeze time sometimes.
You are an amazing mother. I love your letters to Zoe, they express a mother's love for her child better than most could express. Very sweet Rachel.
Zoe is lucky to have these letters. She will appreciate them very much one day.
This is so beautifully written, Rachel. It's vivid and moving. I am amazed by how well you are able to capture the essence of this phase of motherhood.
The chubby thigh part especially makes me want to cry. I miss those chubby thighs.
Beautiful...
picture,
post,
baby,
mother.
loved it.
She is so cute! I can't believe how red her hair looks. I whish I could be there more for her growing up!
you have articulated beautifully the feelings that are so close to a mother's heart. this was such a treat to read -- can't imagine what a treasure it will be for Zoe.
I love that picture of Zoe.
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