Things I've learned from my infant (so far)

1. Milk is so delicious you can live off of it.
2. You sleep much more soundly next to someone who loves you.
3. Sometimes you just need your mom.
4. The back of our couch is beyond interesting.
5. My hair can entertain for hours (ok, minutes).
6. Talking to yourself can be insanely (pun intended) cute.
7. One little smile really can change someone's day.
8. Sometimes crying is the only way to communicate.
9. If you're feeling overwhelmed, just close your eyes and go to sleep.
10. Sometimes you just need your dad.

And finally, one thing I already knew but has been confirmed:
Naps are the best thing since sliced bread.

On letting go

Even though Teddy is still itty-bitty, I'm realizing that he's already growing and changing so fast. And that can only mean letting him go in small, itty-bitty ways.

First up? Letting him sit on his own in his tub for his bath.

On adjusting

Teddy is now 5.5weeks old and I'm finally having flashes of feeling like his mom. This is something that is so hard to describe - both the not feeling like his mom and the blossoming motherhood feeling. Can I blame the former on sleep deprivation? (I think that I can still get away with that excuse for a few more weeks, so I'll milk it for all it's worth.)

The truth is what everyone says about becoming a parent is true: it is the hardest thing, the most rewarding thing, and something that can sometimes take time to develop. I never had moments of not loving Teddy or looking at him and not feeling connected. But I think my rational mind is still finding it hard to believe that he's mine. That B and I created this tiny little human. That he is not on loan to us from some relative or friend for a few weeks. These realizations are both exhilarating and terrifying.

But today? Today I've been having moments of feeling like Teddy's mom. It's in the way I can now maneuver the car seat and stroller in and out of my car in less than 5 minutes; it's in the way Teddy glances at me and there is a spark of recognition or (if I'm really lucky) a smile; it's in the pride I feel every time someone new tells me how stinkin' cute my kid is (because, really, have you seen him lately?? C.U.T.E.).

Today I feel like Teddy's mom. Tomorrow I may go back to feeling like a babysitter or a giant boob. But today I am mom.

Dear Teddy,

I'm a day late (and more than a dollar short), but I'm hear to tell you all about your first full month of life! The highlights: you were born, you ate some (and gained some weight - 7lbs 6oz as of this week), you slept alot, and you still amaze me with your cuteness. Seriously, little one, I wonder if I'll ever look at you and not marvel!

In other news, you got your first toys - a play mat on which you've spent lots of time. Mainly you just stare at the bunny rattle and cow mirror. I keep telling you to talk to the baby in the mirror and sometimes you oblige. Mostly you just make silly faces, which is just as good in this house.

You've gotten lots of presents from lots of kind people. One of those gifts included this adorable onesie from Mommy's undergraduate college. (Thanks Kati! Go Norse!) But the probably the biggest news, little monkey, is that you are beginning to smile. Just this morning I came over to you laying on the couch and started talking to you. And by golly if you didn't look me in the face and give me a big, gummy, open mouthed smile! I have a feeling you will be doing lots more smiling in the next few weeks - and hopefully you'll let me take a picture of that big, gummy smile to share with the world.

This month you've joined us on quite a ride. Life is definitely forever changed now that you are here. It hasn't always been easy or pretty. But, Teddy, you are so, so loved.

Love,
Mom

Teddy's heart = 2; Doctors' predictions = 0

You're lying there, stripped down to your diaper, content. The pediatrician places the stethoscope on your chest and the room is still. You admire the contrast of a black cord on a pale wall. Then she tells us, "I hear a murmur in his heart and I think you should have a cardiologist check it out."

And it takes a few hours for that news to sink in. The irony hits right away, of course. From my doctor telling me you didn't have a heartbeat to your pediatrician telling me there was something wrong with that heartbeat, I realize that it's no small coincidence that I'm a bit heart-obsessed.

So your dad and I venture to the cardiologist one drizzling weekday morning. We wander through a maze of doctor's offices until we finally locate a bustling practice with children everywhere. I briefly think about all those little hearts that have just begun loving, and all those parent-hearts that are so close to breaking.

I quiet you during the sonogram with slow strokes to your cheek, and you look around the dark room. Every once in a while you gaze at the black and white image on the screen. And again the irony hits me - my little baby, with whose heart I was so obsessed with seeing during the 9 months of my pregnancy, is looking now at an image not much different than I saw of his own heart. We look at your heart together.

We dress you in the cardiologist's office while we wait for her to deliver the results. Before she even sits down she proclaims, "well, he's totally normal." We nod our heads because of course our baby is normal; of course his heart is in fine working condition.

It's not until later that I think to myself, "no, Mrs. Cardiologist, you have no idea how extraordinary this little heart is to me."