She smiles a lot. A LOT. She just beams up at you, her mouth open wide and her eyes squinty (like me) so that the smile is her whole face. And she's so close to laughing--you can tell she's trying.
She's strong and has been since birth. She's stronger than I knew a baby could be. Sometimes she fights me when she's nursing, rears back and throws her hands at me (I don't know if it's aggression out of excitement or frustration).
One of my favorite things is her dramatic stretching, particularly on her changing pad after a nap. She stretches out those legs, stiffens them, grunt-squeaks, kicks, and does it again.
She's just the best. The best there is. How was I me without her?
I finally started feeling like a me again, like I had a semblance of control and understanding of this new way of life, around six weeks. Now I'm back at work for the first full week on Monday and hoping that I can pull of a fully-there work me and a fully-there home me and feel like I'm whole. There's a lot to manage from all angles, and I'm having trouble making space for to-do's. I'm relying heavily on lists and reminders and still leaving out chunks of life (like communication with friends and family). I am struggling to stay un-anxious when Phillip is on second and third shifts, particularly when he's here but asleep or here but not here. I am struggling to give Scooter the attention he deserves and is used to when I have new demands and priorities. But I am loving motherhood, even if it's going to take months to get used to saying I'm a mother, to not feel silly saying Mama when I talk to my daughter, to saying This is my daughter.
I have a daughter. All I want to do is build her up, give her every early opportunity to learn and grow through play and song and stories and art. I'm going to show her the good of the world but also how she can make it better. She will know her voice and how to use it. And I can't wait to hear what she has to say.
