Tag Archives: baby

Four Months

My Little Love, 

Someone asked me yesterday if I wished I had waited to have you. I will never wish that. Why would I wish to have waited for this sense of distinction in my life? You have given my life more meaning, you make my life more fulfilling, and you give me more happiness than anything else ever can or will. Your father and I love you more than you could possibly know, and you won’t know or understand just how much until you have a child of your own, it’s a love that can only be understood by a parent.



I spent nine months counting down the days until you came, and I was both ready and totally unprepared at the same time. I don’t think anyone is ever really prepared for how much they can love; I never knew I had the capacity to love anything so intensely or so achingly.  It’s the most profound kind of love, the kind that instantly makes you a better person. How can I afford the luxury of selfishness when this tiny, adorable little person is depending on me? You have made me a real live grown up, and you have given me whole arsenal of insight and common sense that can only come from being a responsible parent.

I think always have a portion of my brain dedicated to the thought of where you are and what you’re doing, and the constant hope that you are happy and doing well will be embedded within me forever. You are my motivation, inspiration, my therapy, and my own personal narcotic; anytime I have a thought laced with Evelyn I feel a surge of happiness. I can’t thank you enough for the dimension that being your mother has added to my life. 



Always remember, I love you. I love every bit of you from the ends of your wild hair to the tips of your dainty little feet. I love you even when I’m changing a particularly messy diaper, even when you’re giving me that warning that you’re about to cry, that warning in the form of protruding lower lip, and especially when you wake up from your nap and smile at me making me giggle, because it’s just so great that you can giggle back at me.






Saturday night spit-up

I have been a parent for eighty days and during those eighty days I have spent about eighty minutes away from Evelyn. I exaggerate of course, but not too much. Since I’ve been a parent I’ve been to one movie and have gone out to dinner one time, that’s two nights out in two and a half months. Before Evelyn was born, Jay and I either had people over or went out just about every Friday and Saturday night, and even sometimes on Thursdays or Sundays too. 

When I was pregnant, Jay and I would talk about how hard it was going to be to stay in so much; neither of us are homebodies, we’re both quite the opposite. We talked about how we were going to miss going to the movies once a week and how it was going to be hard to not be able to hang out with our friends every weekend. We knew we weren’t going to be able to do these things so often anymore, not only because we had to physically care for the baby, but because we would have to start saving more money as well.

Luckily, we’ve always been smart about our finances, so we knew that change wouldn’t be too difficult. What we didn’t expect was that it would be so easy to stay home so much. Why spend ten dollars or more on a movie ticket when you can entertain your very own baby so she smiles at you? Why go to a bar or club and small that hairy guy’s body odor all night when you can smell the sweet smell of your baby’s neck? Why go out and end up having to take care of your drunk friend when you can take care of the Most Adorable Baby in the World? Why clean up that drunk person’s throw up when you can instead clean your baby’s spit up?



I think some of our friends have this misconception about being a parent because we’re so young. I think some of them feel bad for us because we don’t have certain freedoms anymore, and it bothers me a lot. I hate that some of them think of  my daughter as a cute little burden. My daughter is the greatest thing in my life, no amount of missed nights out could change that. I’m sure as she gets older it will be a lot easier for me to leave her, but right now I’m perfectly content with going another eighty days with two nights out. 

The world’s most effective diet

I weigh three pounds less than I did at my first doctor’s visit. At that point I had morning sickness, so I probably hadn’t gained any weight yet. Evelyn will be eleven weeks old tomorrow, and eleven weeks ago I weighed thirty-two more pounds than I do now. So, basically I’ve lost thirty-two pounds in eleven weeks. This wouldn’t be as miraculous to me if it hadn’t been for the fact that I have never eaten more food IN MY LIFE than I have eaten in the last eleven weeks. 

Back when I was a human incubator, I was told that I wasn’t eating for two, that I only really needed to eat three hundred more calories per day than I usually did. I remember being scolded at one of my doctors appointments for gaining an extra pound than I should have since my last visit. If you’re smarter than a second grader, you probably figured out that I gained twenty-nine pounds during my pregnancy. I was pretty good at following the doctor’s orders, I gained one pound less than what she recommended, and that was on a pretty good diet, but that was probably because I didn’t really have a ton of cravings during my pregnancy, I mostly craved foods that cooled me down because of the obscene heat. I would not recommend getting pregnant at this time of year unless you’re willing to eat tons of popsicles, I mean enough popsicles to recreate your 3,000 square foot home with popsicle sticks. Having said that, I do think the weather made my belly a better habitat for a growing fetus because it produced The Most Adorable Baby in the World. 

exibit A: 


exibit B:


Anyway, I credit this weight loss to the sustaining of a human life with the contents of my boobs. I eat about as much as Tolkien’s hobbits, yet I’ve lost all of my pregnancy weight because now I AM eating for two. So, if you want to lose weight while eating anything you want, get pregnant, gain thirty pounds, give birth then feed that baby with your boobs. I swear it works. Side effects include sleep deprivation, poopy diapers, and responsibility for the life of a child for the next eighteen plus years.

Two Months

Dear Social Butterfly,

You were born two months ago today. I honestly cannot believe it’s been two months. This is strange because it feels like it was only just the other day that you made your first appearance. I feel this way because the memory of being paralyzed with emotion when you were plopped on my chest is so vivid in my mind as I write this. All the memories proceeding that exact moment feel like a lifetime ago. It’s as if I was pregnant years ago but just had you moments ago. Strange, I know. I can only hope you will have similar experiences, experiences that change not only your life, but who you are and therefore what you make of that life. Those experiences are the kind that make life worth living.


This month has been marked by the amazing way you’ve developed socially. Ever since you learned to smile at people (not just when you fell asleep or passed gas), you’ve been quite social with anyone you come in close contact with. You and I have already carried on extensive conversations about the weather, the crumbling economy, and what holiday movies we’re looking forward to the most, among other topics. Not only do you smile at me, you make various expressions and have several different grunts, coos, gurgles and murmurs that tell me you aren’t particularly favoring this seasons early cold streak, you have high hopes that the bill for another stimulus check will give the economy the boost it needs, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button looks amazing, but The Spirit looks to be a dud.

We usually carry on several of these conversations before your father gets home from work, at which point you give him your playoff picks and opinion on which Heisman winner will win the BCS title game. You also have discussions with your cousin Elijah when he comes over, but I can only make out half of what he’s discussing with you, you two usually use your own baby language.


You aren’t particularly shy with any of the family or friends that hold you either, though I do think you’re more reserved about your opinions with those you don’t know well, judging by the fact that those conversations are a lot shorter.

You even exchanged words with that terrible doctor just before he poked and prodded you mercilessly. After that you were so angry with him you only gave him your Tomato Red Cry, something you kept up until the second he left the room. Your first breakup of sorts. Don’t worry though; he wasn’t your regular pediatrician so there isn’t likely to be any awkward post-breakup conversations with him in the future. I should warn you though, some men will mistake you’re friendliness flirting and judging by the conversation your father had with you the other day, you’re not going to be allowed to date until after graduate school. 




For finishing the semester with my sanity and maintaining my 3.8 GPA despite giving birth halfway through the semester

My boobs sustain a life once again

I survived. I survived another one of the most physically uncomfortable experiences of my life (all but one have occurred within the last month or so).

My boobs were the size of melons yesterday, and I don’t mean the cantelope and honeydew variety, I mean they were the size of watermelons. What made it worse was that Evelyn refused to eat from my either of the nuclear reactors lodged on my chest. At the hospital she was eating fine, all the nurse even commented on how well she was taking to it, but yesterday she refused and looked up at me with an expression that said, “What, are you trying to kill me with these things?” 

Even before I was pregnant I had decided that  I would breastfeed my children excursively for as long as I could, so what made the pain worse was the feeling that my baby didn’t want all that I had to offer, especially when I had so much to offer, but I couldn’t blame her, my boobs were each three times the size of her head by this point, and that’s bound to be intimidating for anyone, let alone someone who’s only seen 72 hours of life.

Our plan of action was to take the doctor’s advice and to supplement her with formula until she would eat from my gigantic bosoms or whatever I pumped out of them. I tried using the manual single pump we had received at the baby shower, but it didn’t seem to be working, so Jay rushed to the store to buy a double electric pump before my chest exploded. In the meantime, I tried massaging my boobs, putting warm cloths on them, even taking a warm shower, nothing I did caused the pain to subside even the smallest amount.

I wanted to kiss Jay when he returned with the tool that would save my life. Or so  I thought. I was taking the pump we had purchased out  of it’s packaging, I noticed something that must have put a look on my face similar to Evelyn’s Lip Pout: I held in my hands a used pump. How did I know this pump was used? It had a few drops of someone else’s milk in one of the bottles. My disgust was only surpassed my the continuing agony of the size and tenderness of my boobs, it was so bad, my bra felt like barbed wire was wrapped around my chest.

When you buy a breast pump, it has a sticker on the label that dictates something about the pump not being returnable once the seal was broken, so I was worried that the store wouldn’t take it back, and angry that they had accepted it back once before. I wanted to go with Jay and raise hell. What stopped me was imaging myself walking in there looking like I had stuffed to basketballs where my tits should be. 

So once again I waited for Jay to return with the overpriced pump. When he came back I inspected the machine and couldn’t wash the thing quick enough. Once I got to pumping I was so relieved I almost sang a song of sweet relief. Jay and I fed Evelyn with the expressed milk for the rest of the day. 

 I was praying through my sleepless night that the engorgment would subside and she would take to my boobies once again. This morning before I tried to feed her I explained to her the importance of the task before her, I told her that the bond between mother and child facilitated by breastfeeding was important to me, so could she please do me this big one and eat from the contents of my breasts?  She looked at me and gave me a little grunt, and when she latched on to my boob seconds later, wrapping her arm around it as if to claim her territory, I took that grunt as a yes. She took to it so well that when she was done I checked her for fangs. Sore nipples are far better than barbed wired boobs the size of watermelons.

Elijah, meet Evelyn

first encounter

When we brought Evelyn home from the hospital, my sister came over as soon as possible so that Elijah could meet the new addition. As soon as her saw her he smiled and yelled “Baby!!!,” then ran over to her and immediately wanted to hold her. It took some effort, but we finally got him to settle with sitting on his mom’s lap while she held him. He immediately started giving her kisses, and when she whimpered he blew on her and kind of rocked to sooth her. It’s adorable to see them together.