You are seven months old today. I’m not certain how that happened so quickly. Your middle name is Raven, and you are already living up to it. My lightbringer with a mischievous grin, you bring joy to everyone you meet. You are finding your voice, and said your first word just a few days ago: “Dada”. When I have tried to teach you to say “Mama”, you smile, and sign “more” over and over. The sign “more” has come to mean me, which makes mealtime very confusing. “All done.” you sign, followed by “more” as you reach for me to pick you up. We joke that you have two parents: Daddy and food.
You are sitting up well now, and sometimes thinking about crawling, but mostly you would rather that I never put you down. You are eating solid foods, and will devour anything we are willing to let you try. You have begun playing with toys in earnest now, and are curious about everything around you. You adore your big sister, and are fascinated by the cats and the dog. You have begun sucking your thumb recently, and given up pacifiers. Clearly, you are already trying to emulate Audrey, who still needs her thumb and pink blanket. There are few things in the world cuter that the two of you snuggled up together, sucking your thumbs. You are the most joyful person I think I’ve ever met. I hope it’s contagious.
Right now, you are fussing in your cosleeper, because next to the bed is too far away to sleep. My “velcro baby”, you insist on only sleeping if you are touching me. I sometimes wonder where you go when you sleep, and if you are afraid you won’t return. Is this why you need me so close? Whatever it is, I certainly won’t complain.
I love you, little one.
I blinked, and you are nearly two weeks old now. We are so grateful to have you join our family. You may never know the impact you have had on us already. You are a beautiful infant, and you won our hearts immediately with your snuggles and involuntary smiles. This experience with you has been a joy so far.
After two weeks of prodromal labor, you decided to come all in a rush a week ago last Monday. I could almost sense you laughing, as your trickster namesake would. My labor started in earnest (finally!) mid-afternoon, and your dad and I left our little log house for the drive down to the hospital in Denver with what we thought was plenty of time to spare — expecting to meet you in the middle of the night or the early hours of Tuesday morning. But you were excited to be earthside. During the 45 minute drive to the hospital, my contractions sped up rapidly, and when we arrived in the delivery room, you were born two minutes later. The emergency doctor didn’t even have time to put on an apron before your arrival — instead a nurse held it up and half wrapped it around her. You would have thought the whole experience quite funny.
Your grandmother was in town to help out with your sister during your arrival, and the two of them came to meet you Tuesday morning. Watching them meet you put tears in everyone’s eyes. You are already fast friends with your big sister, who dotes over you, and holds your hand in the car on the way to school each morning. Your favorite way to self-soothe is to touch your cheeks, and the other day as your eyes began to focus, you reached out and touched my cheek. Your arrival has brought our family closer together. Your dad is really appreciating being here to help take care of you, and I have been able to see you two form a wonderful bond, in addition to seeing his bond with your sister grow stronger. You truly are our lightbringer, together with your big sister you bring so much joy to our family.
You are eating and sleeping well, and love to stare at the world as it comes into your view. You regained your birthweight in just one week, and you are growing so quickly now. You are strong and happy, an “easy” baby. You are a snuggler — preferring to sleep on my chest than anywhere else. In the hospital, we started calling you “Scootch” for no particular reason, I suppose, but it seems to fit you, and you may have a new nickname. I’m sure I’ll be apologizing for it when you’re twelve.
Thank you for joining us. We’re all so happy you’re here.
I love you,
born September 26, 2016
7 lbs, 21 inches long
I can’t believe that you’re almost here, and I am just now writing you a letter. This year has been a whirlwind for our family, and we are so looking forward to meeting you. When I found out that I was pregnant with you there was still winter snow on the ground, and now the elk call and sing from the yard, and the bears get into trouble at night, and the aspen trees are slowly beginning to turn. This winter will be early and it will be cold. I am looking forward to spending a lot of it tucked up into our little house with you and your sister watching the snow fall. I am so grateful to be able to raise the two of you here, near where I lived as a child, and close to the earth and her rhythms. Our life here is not an extravagant one, but it is genuine, and I am hoping to raise you in a house filled with love.
Your sister is overjoyed to meet you. She lays her head on my belly and talks to you nearly every day. I can tell that you are already friends. Unlike her, I don’t have a strong sense of your energy yet, of who you are, other than I think you are eager to join us, too. I am about 36 weeks pregnant right now, and already you have slipped low in my belly and quieted your movements — waiting, as we are. All I know of you right now is that you are strong, and much calmer in my belly than your sister was. Your movements are less frequent, but for several weeks now they have been enough to make me catch my breath. You don’t have the “dance parties” your sister did, but you seem to like Jack Johnson, and you move closer to the cat when she lays next to you, purring her gurgling song.
It’s hard to believe that you could be here any day now. I think you may be born on the equinox, and you will be a light-bringer. Whatever your purpose in this life will be, I know it will be one of goodness. Perhaps it is just because you are our second baby, but I get the feeling that you will fold yourself easily into the rhythms of our family, and the four of us will be able to watch the seasons together with astounded eyes.