Eleven Weeks
October 23rd, 2012
Little Gracie
Pumpernickel. It is the eve of your eleventh week birthday. I was so anxious
that night they induced me I couldn’t wait to meet you and know you and have
you safe in my arms. Your big sister sat in my bed and held my hands until it
was time for the sitter to come. My three year old doula daughter, none finer.
I remember the
night you were born perfectly clear. I didn't have much sleep those first days
so I had a lot of time to stare at you and soak you in. Your warm little baby
breath, the smell of your skin and hair, your big round eyes staring so alert
for someone so new.
That first night
alone together in the hospital we watched a storm roll in. We turned out the
lights and pulled the curtains back and watched a monsoon roll up over the
mountains across the desert floor and blow the mesquite trees and palo verdes.
We watched the shadows of branches and glow from the clouds bright as the
lightning shot bolts through the sky.
You were born on
the hottest day of the year, one hundred and sixteen degrees. It was our first
night together watching shadows. Our only night alone, our secret storm just
you and me.
We meet often in
these quiet places since. The hustle and bustle of the day and your easy going
ways make it so you’re always in on the action. I savor my moments alone with
you when we steal them away and you flash me that brilliant toothless smile.
Your daddy calls it a "knowing" smile. Your eyes pour love and I know
you know you are loved right back.
I overheard your
sister singing to you "kissing you is the way I say 'I love you
baby". She told me the other day she couldn't sleep "because your
chubby cheeks were keeping she awake being so cute and wanting she to kiss
them". You are showered in kisses and crumbs by that one. She loves you as
much as another human could love anything. You are so lucky to have she. And we
are so lucky to have you. Happy 11 Week Birthday.
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