I keep starting this post, then get stuck:
What comes first, that you smile now? That you can’t stand to have a wet or poopy diaper, so go through piles every day, because every tiny dribble must be removed post haste? Do I say that you’ve begun actually snuggling when you lie against our chests, or that your initial peaceful baby demeanor has become somewhat more typical of infants, with occasional painful gas that keeps us all up at night? I have no idea.
The first month was a blur of naps (ours and yours) and learning to live life one-handed with a baby in the other arm, of throwing away ideas (we’re not co-sleeping, right? and we won’t let him get in the habit of using car rides to sleep, right? those are gone now) and picking up new habits and comfort with having an infant for a roommate.
DJ loves you so much. She cuddles near you and you don't mind her kisses.
Your great-grandmother, who signs her books to you “love, Grandmia” -- Mia is her grandma-name -- is just squealing over the thought that she will get to hold you soon and look into your blue eyes.
You were welcomed, a month ago, into such a family of love, biological and beyond. Your cousins and aunts and uncles are everywhere and eager to watch you grow and learn, as are we. Every day I see something a little new -- you’re less fussy about putting on shirts with long sleeves, you are tracking faces as the people you’re used to move around the room, you can lie for 20 minutes and watch clouds move across the sky. I am never bored with you. I’m sure that one day, I will be bored in the short term -- and I’ll insist we go to the library or dog park for entertainment -- but I can’t imagine being bored in the long term. You are too interesting.
As a three-parent household, we are really learning to function. I tend to do laundry, Audrey of course does the baby-feeding and pumping and storing of milk for later, and a lot of cleaning. Your dad is back to bringing home funds for the roof over our heads, and the health insurance, and he changes at least half of your diapers when he's home, and he’s the one who takes you from one of us -- Audrey, usually, as I tend to do the going-to-bed stuff -- at sunrise, and loves you while Audrey and I grab another hour of sleep.
We’re still figuring out the Mom-name thing, and I’m not quite sure we need to, yet. I only find it hard at times like this one, when I’m explaining how Audrey tends to be the one who’s with you in the pre-dawn hours while I’m with you at bedtime and into the small-wee hours, and how do I explain that? We say, “I’m going to bring you to Mommy now,” and it could be either of us, and you know -- but how do I word that for others? “Mama-Audrey” and “Mama-Mary,” or whatever, just sounds wrong to me. I guess I’m Mary and Mom, and Mama, and Mommy, and Audrey’s those things but not Mary, she’s Audrey. I think it will work itself out.
Having you here, and living together, and being all-three parents for you is leading to a lot of new discussions about The Future, and I’m not exactly sure, still, what form our current hopes will take, what plans will develop, but they’re all exciting, not scary. I love the idea of building a family with and around you that is nothing like I ever expected for my life.
So: You are just a bit more than a month old -- four weeks last Monday, a month on the 21st, and five weeks tomorrow. You smile and have a little half laugh that is sometimes a chuckle in your sleep. Your dreams are fascinating, with pouty-faces and smiles and open eyes that roll back to show the whites. You love staring at your dad’s face. You don’t mind when DJ kisses you. You eat too much and throw too much of it up unless you’re fed small amounts relatively often, but oh you do NOT like to be taken off the breast when you’re still hungry. You don’t like to lie down and sleep by yourself. You can be *put* down, and the moment you first half-waken, you’re done -- cribs are for losers. You fall asleep easily in the car. You hate being wet or poopy but you really hate diaper changes, so frequently throughout the day, we have to make you really angry and change your diaper.
That is you. And as tired as I am, I don’t resent you for a moment. You are a huge change in my life, and a shining light, and I hope our continued life together is as delightful as the beginning.