Dear Baby A3

You have been my most unexpected blessing, the most perfect completion to our family. We are almost 5 months out from your birth. While I was unable to write you before birth, or even immediately after, I still want to document this time for you as best I can. Here is your birth story as I remember it today.

Learning of your impending arrival, and your due date being on your brother's birthday, we knew that we would schedule your birthday early. I was a nervous wreck before your birth. Having gone through that twice prior, I knew exactly (or basically) what I was in for in terms of physical recovery. I also had two older children who were dealing with lots of changes in the weeks prior: your brother started kindergarten, your sister started a new preschool. We had spent August all together, traipsing to the pool and going on hikes. September arrived and you were so near and so much change was to come.  I struggled with knowing how I would care for them through so many transitions at once, all while physically recovering and taking care of you.

Your grandma and pop-pop arrived two days before your birth. I was still anxious, writing down the daily routine for them, praying that all would go well for everyone. On Monday morning, Dad and I woke early, drove to the hospital and checked in to a dimly lit Labor and Delivery Ward. I remember the peace of the place standing in stark contrast to the turmoil I was going through internally. I passed out upon the first draw of blood, but luckily the surgery proceeded rather smoothly. You were born on September 28 (at 39 weeks 1 day gestation) with little fanfare, little noise. The relative peacefulness with which you entered the world has dominated your temperament. While your sister entered the world screaming before she was truly separate from me, I knew you had been born before I heard you. I felt you become separate from me and the tears were immediate. You would be my last baby, and you have allowed me to enjoy all these passings (that are entirely mine) with a quietness and gentleness and grace.

You were the most peaceful newborn. You never cried, except when cold or poked by nurses, rather you would quietly fuss for some formula or a clean diaper. You ate well, you slept well, you were a healthy 8lb 1oz little guy. This all ended up being another godsend given that I spiked a fever and was generally struggling to recover physically. Your brother and sister were brought to meet you later on your birthday by grandparents. From the moment they laid eyes on you, they were smitten. And since then your sister, especially, has been all up in your business! She wants to hold you, feed you, play with you, sing to you, kiss you endlessly. Your brother was fascinated with your ears in those early days; "his ears are so tiny," and it took him a day or two to remember your name. But he has loved seeing you become your own little person in the past month or so. He makes silly faces to see if he can get you to laugh. And when you do? Oh buddy, you both light up.  

I realize this birth story is lacking in some detail, especially when compared to your older siblings. But here's the thing: after all the anxious buildup, all the anticipation, you have joined our family with such ease, with such a sense of "how could you have not been with us all along?" It's hard to remember a time when you weren't a part of us. Your birth has changed in me in ways I never expected. Your arrival has made me more content, more settled in who I am as a mother. You have allowed me to truly appreciate the here-and-now. I know how fast this time, this life, passes. I quietly grieve and rejoice with each passing day.

We really lucked out on having you join our family - all four of us are so in love with you. Welcome to our crazy, kid!!

Love,
Mama

Things I Don't Want to Forget

It's been quite a while since I last wrote. I missed posting a one year update for Adelyn (it may or may not be half written in my drafts). I have missed saying much of anything about Teddy. I have not had a chance to record any of the small mundane changes that I know I'll regret not recording.

Like how Teddy is noticeably more patient (most days) (when he's well rested). If I tell him that I will help him rescue a lost Matchbox car from under his (big boy) bed (another change that has happened since I last wrote) after I clean the Adelyn-flung yogurt on my dining room walls, he will (most days, well-rested, of course) sigh, "ok mama."

Or like how Adelyn's first, clear-as-day, no-question-about-it, first word(s) was "uh-oh." And how B and I both agreed it was the cutest, most precious "uh-oh" we had ever head. She says it appropriately (aka anytime she drops something, whether truly on accident or as an excuse to use her one word). She will repeat it if Teddy says it, and will say it on command (especially if Teddy is the commander).

Or like how Teddy still loves cars, or anything with wheels, and how Adelyn tries to copy him racing cars around our living/dining/kitchen area. Watching the two of them truly interact and play (most days) (when they are both well rested) still brings up the most indescribable joy in my chest.

Or how the other day when I dropped Teddy off at school, he asked if he could give me a kiss goodbye, when normally he walks right in to be with his friends and never looks back. And I was reminded how little he still is, even though I rarely lift him because he is solid weight.

Or how Adelyn will blow kisses goodbye and wave and take a few steps on her own (most days) (well rested) and signs for most things she wants, followed by a "yeah" when we speak the request. She shakes her head no, throws food on the floor, tries to comb her hair with a fork full of avocado, and is getting pretty good with a spoon.

Most days, especially the ones where I am well rested (or at least well-caffeinated), I still look at them at think, "these are my babies." And I am overcome with gratitude and a love that I never knew existed for them, for our family. The days when I am exhausted to the bone and hours away from my coffee, it's hard to see the bigger picture and the love and the life we are building.

So I know on those days, I'll be glad I wrote these small memories down.

Magic

I'm riding the train home from work, it's late (to me) and cold (to everyone). It's a week before Christmas, so the trains fill with local tourists and families traveling to and from the city for the tree viewings and store front wandering and fine dining and magic of the big city.

It's a packed train, including a family of four who resort to standing in the galley. A mother, a father, and two children. A son and a daughter. I overhear the children talking about finals and advisers and "friends from home" they  hope to see "over break." And I place them at about 18 and 20 years old. Their youth so evident in the combination of his baby face and broad shoulders, in her stylish clothes and long ponytail.

In a flash, I imagine myself there. I imagine myself that mother. I have college aged children whom my husband and I take into the city for a nice dinner for the holiday. And I have children that stay up past 7pm and talk to each other and know how long the ride is on the semi-express from Grand Central. It feels like the light at the end of this proverbial long tunnel of early parenthood. Of this tunnel, filled with screaming tantrums and whining and testing boundaries and exhaustion and early mornings.

But then I come back to myself, sitting on the train, heading home. To my cozy home with my family of four. To my 3 year old and almost 1 year old. To my son who is just starting to not scream while getting his hair cut and who believes in magical reindeer that fly Santa. To my daughter who is learning to sign for what she wants and is endlessly fascinated by pushing buttons.

And I can appreciate that that mother, with her college aged children and late dinners, might be just slightly jealous of my children, with their dirty hands and plastic toys. Her children may be able to sit and take turns on Christmas morning, while mine tear into the packages with wild abandon. But oh, how mine still believe in the magic! And while I envy her ability to sleep past 6am and pee alone, I wonder if she misses the best parts of this stage I feel like might never end.

So I'm sitting there, on the train, in what feels like a very middle vantage point. I lust after the young adult children who can care for themselves and I yearn after my innocent babies who remind me that giving is so much better than receiving. And I realize this is it. These moments are all I get. And it is hard to fully appreciate in the midst, and it is hard not to romanticize the past. But damn if I'm not doing the very best I can and loving these children each day.

I'm walking to my car and imagining his face on  Christmas morning when he sees the one toy for which he asked Santa. I appreciate that one day he may be riding on the train talking about "friends from home" and "over break," but I will have this memory. Of him, his face, when he finds confirmation that magic happens.

All About Adelyn - Month 11

Loves:
* moving!
* handing things to other people
* turning pages in books
* dropping things onto the floor
* her blankie
* opening doors
* banging her cup on the table
* trying to use her spoon
* chasing her brother
* "standing" on her knees

Hates:
* being stuck standing up
* not having her pacifier (if she can see it)
* diaper changes
* wearing a hat

Starting to:
* use "mama" and "dada" and something like "deadie" discriminately
* point to things while saying "dat?"
* try to pull up to standing
* get teeth! 2 little bottom ones popped this month
* drink whole milk from a cup
* refuse pureed baby food
* shake her head "no"

Adelyn Mae, you have grown so much since I was last able to write! There is so much to say and so few words to express how much fun you bring to our family these days. It is hard to get a good picture of you because you are constant movement, constant exploration, constant life. Two little bottom teeth finally popped through your gums, and all of us seem much happier because of it. You have mastered crawling and opening doors and putting things in and taking things out of containers. Buttons are extremely enjoyable as well. Your brother had taken a renewed interest in you (on his whim, of  course), and watching the two of you "play" together is still the highlight of my heart. There is something indescribable about seeing my two babies playing (nicely) together. And he can still make you laugh the most genuine, belly-laugh you can utter.

It is hard to believe that 11 short months ago you arrived. It feels like yesterday and forever all the same. I can't imagine life without you! You are fiesty and curious and observant and soaking up so much love from all three of us. I can't wait to spend this holiday season celebrating all your firsts - first snow, first Santa visit, first present opening, first Christmas pjs. I'm painfully aware how fast this babyhood passes. I plan to savor as much of it as I possibly can.

All About Adelyn - Month 9

Loves:
* eating
* toys that make noise
* shaking rattles
* testing gravity
* trying to move around (sometimes)
* "This little piggy"

Hates:
* not being able to move around
* getting changed and dressed
* being in the same place for too long

Starting to:
* move!
* pull to standing (happened one time, and we've had lots of "almost"s since)
* wear 12 month clothes (at her well visit she was 21lbs and almost 30"!)

Oh, Mae-Mae, you continue to grow in your own way! You aren't crawling and you don't have any teeth yet, but you've found hilarious ways to move around the hardwood floors and can eat just about anything we put in front of you. Apparently, teeth are overrated. You give the best hugs, and your best belly laugh occurs from either watching Teddy or getting a good tickle. You have truly discovered cause and effect, and now making the music play on a toy will elicit the biggest, proudest grin. And we cheer for you every time. I love watching you discover the simplest of things. I love being reminded of how lucky I am to your mama.

All About Adelyn - Month 8

Loves:
- tasting everything she can grasp
- plastic bags
- Teddy's toys
- playing peek-a-boo
- eating (and playing with her food)
- touch-and-feel books
- grabbing at faces

Hates:
- sitting for too long
- sitting still
- anything remotely related to being still while awake

Starting to:
- wiggle around, but not with much control yet
- understand signs we've been using (eat, milk, more)
- show preference for certain toys

Oh baby girl, you are so much fun! I forgot how fun simple things can be. Things like peek-a-boo and clapping and discovering different textures. You are discovering so much in the world right now and I can almost see the connections happening (like how you flail your arms and legs when I make the sign for milk; it's like you are saying "yes ma, you got it! I want to eat!"). You remain quite the wiggle worm. You have been since the very first movements. These days you are not content to remain anywhere for very long, and you are inching and scooting your way around (literally sometimes in complete circles) as best you can.

You get frustrated, too, these days. These are the first lessons in patience with yourself - you will get the whole moving-with-purpose thing down soon, you just have to keep at it, little girl. Keep stretching, keep reaching, keep trying. Never give up on the goal, be it getting that Matchbox car or riding a bike or finding your life's passion. I have a sneaking suspicion you will persist with all the fiestiness you can muster.

All About Adelyn - Month 7

Loves:
- grabbing toys, glasses, your brother, anything within reach
- playing!
- the Little People school bus' flashing lights
- eating (you are up to 3 meals per day now)
- bath time
- painting/art projects (according to your teachers at school)

Hates:
- dirty diapers
- strangers
- not being able to see what is going on/what Teddy is doing

Starting to:
- pass toys from one hand to the other
- look for objects that have fallen/are out of view
- study our mouths when we talk

Oh, baby girl, you are such a joy to have in our lives. You have started, or rather continued (as this started at your 6 month check up with the doctor), to be very vary of strangers. We visited Dada's family over the last weekend, and you wanted nothing to do with them (except Papa Bob, of course) until you had sufficiently warmed up to each of them. I'm being reminded, again and again as you grow, that you are a unique individual and we are still just learning about you. Each day seems to be filled with finding out new things about you, like how flap your arms with excitement when I make the sign for "milk" and get giggly when you are tired at night. We have so much fun with you these days. And I really can't imagine life without you, Mae-Mae.