one, two, three
(I wasn’t going to do this. I wasn’t going to write you monthly letters. Others do that. I was going to not do it. I was going to do something else – maybe. And here you have it: a letter. Just like all the others get letters so do you. Why? Because you are three months old today and you deserve one. The past three months have seen me happier and more sleep deprived than ever – and not necessarily at the same time – so I deserve to write you this letter. Here you go:)
One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. 13 weeks, one day. Three months.
The short version:
You came, we cried and laughed, held you in our arms, fell in love.
We came home, you cried, you rarely laughed, we held you in our arms, we were wornout, but still in love.
We let the weeks go by, you cried less, smiled more, we held you in our arms, we decided to never stop loving you.
The longer version:
Boy do you know how to make sure we will never forget the summer of 2009. Boy do you know how to cry. Boy do you know how to make your mother decide she will never get pregnant again. And boy do you know how to make her change her mind all over. All over.
You arrived. Quickly. 5: 10am on a June Wednesday you started kicking your way out of your mother’s belly. 12:43pm you were out. You made me happy, you made me nervous, you made me ask your dad to sleep by your side the first night, because I didn’t dare. You were tiny and fine.
You cried a lot and slept very little the first 19 days. Then we found out you weren’t getting enough to eat. We fed you some more. You liked. You started sleeping more, crying more.
You cried almost all through your first seven weeks of living. Around week four or five I decided to never have a child again. That’s how much you cried. I think it was around this time you looked at me and thought to yourself: “If I keep going like this for three months, she’s not going to make it, and what’s that about not wanting to give me baby sisters and brothers? I better mix the crying with a bunch of smiles, some babbling and some general sweetness. That should win her over.”
It did. You won me over. If we can, your dad and I will have more children. You did right in switching on the happy button when you did. Your mother needed it. I needed more smiles, less crying. I needed days of no crying. I needed you sleeping peacefully on my chest making me think there’s no place like mum.
The past month has been good. The past month and a little more. All of a sudden you had more time as a happy baby and less as a sad. You slept through the night for the first time, the second, the third – and you started doing it every night. I can’t think of any mother who doesn’t like that.
The past couple of days you have been ill for the first time. Running a fever because of your first injections colliding with a cold. Last night you and I slept on the sofa. We haven’t done that in a while and to be honest, completely honest, I don’t miss it all that much, but there was no getting you to sleep in the crib so sofa it was. You are still coughing, but are much better today and that makes me happy. One cold (almost) down.
Three months old. The stitches have gone and so has the memory of the pain. I am left with a little girl, a happy little girl, that I love more than anything else in the universe. Keep sleeping, keep smiling – and please laugh again soon like you did last night out of the blue – then things are going to be alright, fantastic.
Much love All my love