Little one,
You are laying in your bassinet now, but the mark is still on your cheek where it rested on my arm but a few moments ago. As I stood to take you back and lay you down, I was struck with the realization that in what will seem like a short time, you will be too big for me to cradle in your sleep and rock like that. And though you were yet in my arms, I ached to hold you longer.
Before I laid you down, I smelled your head to see if I could still smell your baby smell. At first, I couldn't, but then I breathed it in a little deeper, and it was still there. A deep smell of peace and comfort.
Little Nora, that is what you bring. Peace and comfort. Even in your tumultuous little life, that has always surrounded you. We named you Elanor because you brought light into a dark place. It suits you well.
Mommy
5.20.2011
5.19.2011
Waking before you, I've got a fever and a...
I am continually amazed at how often it happens that I am with one of my children and think to myself. "I had no idea I could love someone this deeply. I had no idea anyone could love anyone this deeply."
Tonight, my firstborn, you woke up because of your current nemesis: mucous. You couldn't breathe, and so you woke (a very good thing to do when you find yourself not breathing...) and cried out for me. I was still awake, and came quickly to your side.
Today we did not have a good day. Sitting here and reflecting on it has me actually aching because of how unloving I was to you. I was impatient and grouchy and unkind and not at all understanding. You see, we are both sick. And you are a particularly whiny and demanding brand of sick. And I had a particularly bad stretch of having nightmares every time my eyes closed in the past 36 hours. And today, I dozed without meaning to and awoke thinking my nightmare was real and burst into your room to rescue you from imaginary fire, thus waking you from your only successful attempt to sleep all day. So you see, we're both trying each others' patience.
But then I came into your room tonight. And you really needed me. And when I picked you up, your demeanor changed instantly, as though you knew that now everything would be alright.
I love you.
Tonight, my firstborn, you woke up because of your current nemesis: mucous. You couldn't breathe, and so you woke (a very good thing to do when you find yourself not breathing...) and cried out for me. I was still awake, and came quickly to your side.
Today we did not have a good day. Sitting here and reflecting on it has me actually aching because of how unloving I was to you. I was impatient and grouchy and unkind and not at all understanding. You see, we are both sick. And you are a particularly whiny and demanding brand of sick. And I had a particularly bad stretch of having nightmares every time my eyes closed in the past 36 hours. And today, I dozed without meaning to and awoke thinking my nightmare was real and burst into your room to rescue you from imaginary fire, thus waking you from your only successful attempt to sleep all day. So you see, we're both trying each others' patience.
But then I came into your room tonight. And you really needed me. And when I picked you up, your demeanor changed instantly, as though you knew that now everything would be alright.
I love you.
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