The witching hour

Dear Spoonie,

You are nearly two and a half weeks old now, and every day you amaze me. The last three days, we have had no visitors, and you and I have finally been able to spend a lot of time alone together. You are starting to recognize my voice and my face, as well as your daddy’s. At this point in your life, you are a little struggling ball of passion and urgency. You are beginning to discover your world more — your eyes are coming into focus now, and you stare at your toys, the shapes on your crib bedding, trees moving out the window, and our faces.

Eating is still hard for you, but it’s getting easier. Today, I was so proud of you, I could burst. You are finally able to nurse easily, and it has become your favorite past time. Instead of crying when we try to eat, you are eager to eat, and let me know frequently that you are hungry. You sometimes sit with me and nurse for nearly two hours, and I let you — smiling a little as you roll off my body with your fingers still wrapped around mine, milk drunk and warm. A minute later, you are back to eating again. You are not gaining weight yet, which is a big concern of mine. I think it is my fault, and not yours. My milk is abundant, but lacking in fats. So we eat. A lot. And we will get through it, you and I, because I know that you can do anything.

You love the car right now, and sleeping on your daddy’s chest at night when even I can’t console you. We have been referring to the way it quiets you and lulls you to sleep as “daddy magic”. You love being carried in your wrap, with your face warm against my chest. You like playing with me in the mornings while your daddy sleeps. We sing and make faces. You are fond of your stuffed bunny, and you recently discovered the cat. The two of you spent nearly a half an hour together this week just staring at each other. I think neither of you is certain what to make of the other.

The last two weeks have been a little like having my heart dragged down a forest trail, rapidly tumbling and bumping over tree roots, gathering mud, and smiling up at the sun. Never certain what comes next, or how big the next tree root is that I will be thunked across, but completely bewitched by the passing leaves and the sky, I am loving every minute. Even the hard ones.

I can’t wait to see what comes next.

I love you, Spoon.




1 Comment

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One response to “The witching hour

  1. stacy wooldridge

    Seriously, the best…I can feel the emotions clear over here.

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