Today you are two weeks old. If mama had written this letter around day nine, it would have been six paragraphs of "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ." It was pretty rough there for awhile. You hit your first growth spurt and that resulted in many many feedings and little little rest. For a blurry 36 hours I wondered if this was going to be my new life. I could see the next 18 years and wow, did they look exhausting.
But, like everything else these past two weeks, we got through it. Your only job these early days - these early years, really - is to grow. To grow bigger and stronger and longer and fuller. It's to learn something new every day. It's to eat and sleep and be loved. That's your life mission. And my mission, as your mama, is to foster that growth. Through daytime feedings and nighttime feedings. Through kisses and hugs and tummy rubs and whispers and songs and books. My job is to love you. That's it. I love. You grow. Everybody wins.
Ellerie girl, you are so patient with me as I learn how to really take care of a baby. The hardest simple task so far is getting those tiny onesies over your face. I break out into a sweat every time, convinced this is the time I'll get you stuck for sure. You, calm as can be, shoot me a look like "Seriously? You bought all these clothes and never figured out how to get them on and off me?" And I grin sheepishly back and take a deep breath and suddenly, you're dressed.
Thankfully, little one, I am patient with you too. I have always said I lack patience. And I do. But I think the truth is, I was storing it up. Creating a stockpile of calm for when you came into my life and I needed it in a big way. I am a big believer that a zen mama equals a zen baby. And you, sweet girl, are the most relaxed baby in the world. I work to keep the calm and you seem to eat it up. I am blessed beyond measure.
Don't get me wrong, there are hard spots for sure. I ache for your dad. I am so sad he is not here for these early days. I am still recovering from surgery and it's difficult and frustrating to not feel physically like myself. It's hard to not know which of these bumps and lumps will heal and which I'll carry as battle scars of your entry into this world forever. You are feeding so well, but that doesn't mean it's painfree yet for mama. There are so many challenges these days that we cannot go over, around or under. We just have to go through them. One day at a time, we go through them. Sometimes, we go through them twice.
Ellerie, I am overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed with love for you. I am overwhelmed with what is ahead. I am overwhelmed with what we left behind. You help keep me focused on the present, little one. Your forever changing expressions. Your alert phases. Your stillness while nursing. Your sleepy eyes. Your nighttime sounds. How you love to be snuggled. How you love to be held. How relaxed you become after bath time. How you stare, so transfixed, at your Dad on the rare times you're awake for his FaceTime calls.
And when I am feeling most overwhelmed, I remember that I was made to be your mama. You were made to be my girl. I'll never be the best mom in the world but I am already the very best mom for you. We were already a perfect match before you were born and that, my love, is so comforting.
I love you. Here's to the next two weeks and the all the ones after that.
yours forever, Mama.