What Babies Dream

I was settling in with my crochet, enjoying the peace while Larkin slept solidly. All of the sudden, from the bedroom, he let out a frightened yelp. I threw down my crochet, and darted into the room. In the dim light, I could see him tossing a bit and whimpering but realized that he was still asleep. I yanked the barricading pillows out of the way with one hand, while reaching with the other to feel his cheek for fever. His head was cool, but he was obviously having a bad dream.

I laid down in bed beside him, and prepared to offer a nursing – his usual nighttime request. Before I could position myself, he turned to me. There, in the golden glow of the nightlight, he curled in tight beside me. He rolled until we were belly to belly, and rested his head on my chest. I wrapped my arm around him, and he reached out his small, soft, dry, warm hand and held on tight to my hand. I stroked the tiny dimples on his knuckles and he squeezed my fingers.

I leaned in and kissed his forehead, then buried my nose in his hair. The fine, puffy,  dandelion fluff of his hair tickled my nose. The sharp smell of his lemon organic shampoo mixed with the beachy scent of his sunscreen that never totally comes off in the bath, but it was all pushed aside for the decidedly little boy/baby head smell that is a perfume all his own.

I kissed his little head over and over, until the whimpers stopped and his little body relaxed. I rested my cheek on his head to double check for fever, and considered drifting off to sleep in the sweetness of the cuddles. Then he stiffened and cried out again, stopping short only when he reached out and realized he was still in my arms. My heart broke at the sadness of his fear and trembled with the power of our connection that just my presence was enough to offer such peace.

We laid like that for several minutes as he settled back into a peaceful sleep. I held him tight and wondered what he could possibly be seeing in his dreams to cause such discomfort. (Seriously though, what does such a precious child in such a sheltered environment have nightmares about? Weaning, maybe?) Eventually, he rolled away from me, and settled into his usual starfish position, sprawled across as much of our bed as he can possibly occupy. I slid out of bed, and came back out here to the living room – but I left my heart back in the bedroom, in Larkin’s safekeeping… just where it’s been since the first time he laid his head on my chest.

Wordless Wednesday - CRAWLING!

Do shrieks and rasberries count as wordless?

Heart on the Outside

I was laying by Larkin this afternoon, trying to nurse him to sleep. He kept shooting me a sleepy but mischievous smile and trying to flip over and crawl away. Little devil. I turned our little white noise machine from the rain to the heart beat setting, hoping the change in rhythm would calm him down. No go, but the noise brought back a memory.

I was 23 weeks pregnant, and we were back in the hospital. My contractions had increased again, until they were coming every couple of minutes. I called my doctor and he ordered me in to L&D for monitoring. It was midnight, so our fears were compounded by sleepiness. The nurse made small talk while she hooked me to an IV for fluids, and strapped me to the monitors. She flipped a switch and the sound of Larkin’s heartbeat filled the quiet room.

She checked me for amniotic fluid and dilation (both happy negatives) and we sat and watched the green beeping lines as the machine tracked the rise and fall of my contractions. Jonathan paced and watched a muted DIY decorating show on the little TV as the nurse patted my hand and encouraged me to rest and relax while we waited for the doctor to come check things out. As she stood up to leave, she switched off the speakers that were broadcasting the baby’s heart beat into the room.

“NO!” I said. She looked back, and understood what I meant exactly. That sound was the only link I had to my impossibly pre-term and in distress baby. I couldn’t yet feel his kicks and squirms.  I couldn’t hold him and kiss him. That sound was the only sign I had that he was doing okay in there. His heartbeat wasn’t going to keep me from resting – it was the only thing that would allow me to rest at all.

She switched the speakers back on, and I lay back on the hospital bed. I listed to the whoosh of fluids and the patter of a tiny heart. I closed my eyes and thought how he was hearing my heartbeat the same way I was listening to his, and hoped it was offering him similar comfort.

I spent many hours throughout my pregnancy being monitored in L&D. The nurses on the floor came to remember my request to always leave those speakers on. I, of course, no longer get to listen to the sound of his heartbeat (I guess I could put my ear to his chest, but that would require him to sit still, which isn’t going to happen any time soon). Instead, I get to watch the frenetic movements of an obviously healthy little boy.

It’s intimidating to be a parent. The second that baby is born, you realize that you now have to spend the rest of your life with your heart wandering outside of your body. It’s an excruciatingly vulnerable feeling. I know that my emotional well being is forever entangled in this little pioneer.

Yes. Yes, you are.

Daily, I make decisions for my son. I chose where he goes, what he eats. I make choices that impact his afternoon and choices that will impact his entire life. From who I chose as his pediatrician to whether he is ready to play on the tile floor (update – he thinks he is, but his forehead may disagree). It’s intimidating. Every day, I pray for wisdom, that I may make wise and informed decisions. Decisions that I (and Larkin) will hopefully never regret.

That being said (I don’t have a smooth transition here, so I’ll just move on along to the next thing that is circling my sleepy little mama brain), I thought I’d make an update on my little firecracker. He’s been making developmental leaps like crazy. In the last week since I wrote his May update, he’s learned to sit up by himself (from laying down), has almost got crawling down pat, has learned to clap (SO.CUTE!) and has learned to give ‘real’ kisses (actual puckering, not just open mouthed slobbers).

Yeah, I got here by myself. Ain't no thang.

 

I see something I shouldn't be getting into. Let's go check it out!

 He has also continued developing that little spitfire personality. He has turned into quite the drama king, and has a whole new range of facial expressions to express his displeasure (in case his shrieks and bellows don’t clue you in). 

He's actually howling. I've always preferred vampires, but he may be the cutest werewolf ever.

Lucky for him, they are all pretty cute, although the hollering is wearing thin. Stay tuned for videos! He’s quite a character, this little boy of mine!

Making Memories

There are days I wish he would remember. I see a beautiful moment, a perfect day, and I wish that he would have this day and be able to look back on it. I try to take pictures, but no matter how expensive my camera is, it can’t capture the true joy of a wonderful day.

There is so much the camera misses:

The sweet, beachy scent of the thick sunscreen that coats our faces white and brings back memories of my own childhood.

The giggles at a baby wetsuit, ten lbs of sunscreen, a sun hat AND determination to stay shaded as we realize I’ve become one of *those* moms.

A nervous expression as we step into the big pool.

A slight kick of the feet, then excited, happy kicks as he realizes he can’t touch bottom.

Blowing raspberries on the bright yellow floatie.

 

Giggles turning into hysterical laughter as he watches his daddy splash around like crazy, exclusively for his enjoyment.

Holding on tight to mommy’s hand when the waves make him nervous.

The wonderment in his eyes as he touches the rocks of the waterfall, and watches the water flow crystal clear over his hands.

The smell of barbeque on the grill, and the sight of daddy manning the flames skillfully.

How the warmth of the sun stays on the skin, even as the evening air begins to cool.

Sleepy eyes.

Quietly reclining in the tub, while mama soaps the sunscreen and chlorine off his little body.

Falling asleep, snuggled warm next to mommy, and still feeling the rise and fall of phantom waves.

Sweet baby, I wish you would be able to look back on these days of your very first summer. I wish the memories would stay with you as you grow, like snapshots of your babyhood. These hot days spent splashing and discovering that you are our little water baby have been so much fun. But even though you may not remember – I will never forget!

Happy first summer, little man.

Eight Months Old

Dear Monkey,

Eight months old. EIGHT. Somehow, in the last eight months, you’ve gone from a tiny glow worm who I was afraid to unswaddle (because I knew I’d never get you swaddled back as well as the hospital nurses) to a barreling ball of kinetic energy. You race through the days with a grin and a giggle and greet every moment with joy. Sometimes I wonder if you’re not teaching me more about how to live life than I’m teaching you!

It’s been a crazy month (which might explain why this letter is 3 days late!). For the first time, I will not be saying that this month flew by. It’s been a hectic and tough month, and it feels like it’s been a year since Easter! It’s been a month full of a few bouts with illness (for both of us!), a lot of teething, and not a lot of sleep. But it’s also been full of crazy developmental leaps and a LOT of fun.

I don’t even know where to start! First of all, you are cutting FIVE teeth right now. All at once! This brings you to a total of six teeth overall, and all cut in a month. You are mommy’s little trooper! You have two on the bottom, and four on the top. When you cut that first one, you spent two days doing nothing buy tonguing that tooth. Now, you sit around and grind your top teeth against the bottom, trying to figure out what all that is going on in your mouth. Daddy thinks it’s funny, but the noise puts a chill up my spine.

You are also now mobile. You’re finally conquering your hatred of being on your belly, and have worked out the cutest little scoot. You put your forehead to the floor, stick your butt up in the air, and push your face across the floor. You have permanent carpet burns on your forehead! You’re getting pretty fast, too. You can really hustle if you see Mommy or one of the kitties across the room! You’re working on a regular crawl, but just haven’t quite got the knees/hands movement down yet. I don’t have many pictures in this update, because you don’t like sitting still and posing much anymore.

You have developed such sensitive spirit. You definitely have your Mommy’s empathetic soul. You get sad when I’m sad and tense when you hear arguing (even if it’s just on TV). Strangers have started to make you nervous and loud noises upset you sometimes. But even with all that, you are still super social. You love to greet the world with a big smile – as long as you can see them all from the safety and comfort of your mama’s arms.

You are also getting a very independent spirit. You are 19 pounds of pure firecracker. When I’m holding your hands to help you stand, you tried to shove me away, the look on your face saying “MOM, I’VE GOT THIS”. Diaper changes have become quite a production. I have started changing you on our bed most of the time since you’re so wiggly. The second the old diaper is off, you flip over and start to crawl away as fast as you can, a maniacal grin from ear to ear. When I catch you and flip you over to put the new diaper on, you go bonkers and throw a fit. When I’m done, I feel like standing back and throwing my hands in the air, à la a rodeo cowboy. 

For someone who can’t talk yet, you’re pretty good at letting everyone know what’s on your mind. You have this loud goose honk that you make when you notice I’m not around, a shrill and ear piercing shriek that you get when you’re tired, a grunt when you’re hungry, and a million other vocalizations that make perfect sense to my mom’s ear.

I am SO glad that I’ve been able to stay home with you. I love getting to spend every day playing with you, and never having to miss a minute of your energy. It makes it so easy to make financial sacrifice to know that the effort is going towards keeping us side by side all day. I feel so blessed that I’ve gotten to witness nearly every single smile.

I wish I could give you words that would tell you how thoroughly I love you. I wish I could say something, write something, compose something that would whisper to you always the depth of my love. All I have are the simple words the God has given me, and I hope they serve their intention. You are my heart, little one. I revel in every second we share.

You are the brightest joy in an often dim world. If I could, I would make the world a better place – cleaner and safer and softer. I would protect you from every hurtful thing that lurks. But as you grow, I know I’ll be able to protect you less and less. Just as your sweet head has lost the powdery newborn scent, I will lose my ability to keep you safe and sound in my arms. But I promise you to always keep our home a haven, and to always provide a safe place when you need somewhere to rest.

My emotions are too great, and my words too jumbled. So I will just tell you this, little boy: your mommy loves you. She loves you as wide and as deep and as far as the imagination can stretch. And she loves seeing your personality emerge as you shed off the “vanilla-ness” of babyhood and develop a presence all your own. I can’t wait to see who you’re going to be.

To the moon… and back,

Mommy