3/4/2014
The Hospital.
Giggle Bear is one day Old.
Sweetheart, it's just past midnight, & it would be lovely if you would consider sleeping. Please.
You're busily feeding, again, & seem to think sleep is for wimps. Please note I am a wimp.
One of your wrinkled and tiny hands is curled up & tucked under your chin, your eyes - specks of grey and blue and navy - are nearly, but not quite, closed.
Sleep little one, please sleep.
You have been in the world less than twenty four hours.
4/4/2015
My milk came in today, Possum, although I wasn't expecting it till tomorrow. About three minutes before your aunty & uncle arrived I felt a familiar trickle & hurried to change into my bra & breast-pads. Oddly, I had forgotten how crucial these are since the last two kids. How did that happen? How did I forget waking up in floods of milk?
I've just woken from a lovely nap & the nurse has just done a heel test prick, but you're not waking up & my breasts look larger than your head. I swear they've doubled (quadroopled?) in size. I've a nipple jammed into your mouth, but although you're beginning to open your eyes - no luck on the feeding front. Ouch!
This is our last night in the hospital my little one, & I'm trying to savour it. I love hospitals. The food, the cleaners, the hot towels but I strongly suspect that very soon we will be kicked out. (Not quite whimpering & screaming, but close.) This has been a truly blissful stay, my darling Hours spent cuddling you & staring at your perfect little face. I will always, always remember it as perfect happiness.
7.45am 5/4/2014
Our last morning in the hospital, little one. You lie beside me in the clear hospital crib making little aaah, aaah, noises, sweet & soft, as you sleep. Your face is towards me, one little fist curled up in front of your mouth and expressions shift across your face. You suddenly start, yawn, open your eyes, wrinkle your face, & then return to aaahing. You are wrapped in a yellow blanket & then a pink blanket & are very, very gorgeous.
The nurse has been in to check you this morning & I have now turned on all the lights & opened the curtains. I am going to miss the views of the clouds & the eucalypts. There's a certain time of day, in the late afternoon, when the sun catches the eucalypts & they all gleam silver and glint.
O, a magpie calls. Such a sweet rise & fall of notes.
Such quietness. The tick of the clock, your breathing, the magpie.
Your eyes are opening, little curls of dark open, your tongue comes out, a sliver of pink, your mouth opens & closes. Maybe nearly time to try to feed again.
Ah, a little posset.
Was that scrape of wheels breakfast?
After so much wakefulness I'm hungry. You fed at two am and four am and tried to feed at six and then at seven and a few times before that too. Food, food, glorious food.
1.50pm
We are waiting in the car outside Bunnings, a detour on the way home from the hospital. We have already oohed & cooed at how little you look in your carseat. It's your first trip to a hardware store, but I can guarantee they'll play a big part in your life. Your daddy has run in to get superglue to make extra sure the bassinet - an ebay buy - is safe. Oddly, looking after your two older siblings at home while we have been idling in the hospital, he didn't get around to it.
You are three days old & heart-staggeringly beautiful.
It is so hard - and wonderful - to believe you're out in the world with us, little one. Not only here, but embarking on our life as a family.
We went around the hospital showing you off to all your daddy's friends, wee one. You & I both managed to get a little warm in the heating, but outside the sky is grey & the wind is chilly.
My goodness - I just saw another newborn go into Bunnings. It must be 'the' place for the Newly-Born to be.
Everyone commented that you are entirely beautiful. The perfect baby, & your daddy & I are still in awe at how amazing you are, so perfectly you. The way your eyes so busily take in the world, your divine smell, the softness of the tender skin of your skull.
You had your first bath today - you were unsure at first, & then you lay back & enjoyed the warmth & fluid & studied with great interest the tap. I was worried I would have forgotten how, but no, I still remembered the knack. It was lovely to see how you enjoy it - we didn't take photos, it was just for us.
I hear you now, making little aah noises in your sleep, no doubt dreaming of milk, or maybe the play of light in the womb.
We're going home, wee one, we're going home. (A little hiccup, Another little aaah, aaah.)
A moment to remember, you begin every day domesticity with us.
21/8/2015
I write this now as you play beside me, looking through the pages, torn & falling apart that I'm typing from - an old diary that had something spilt on it, so I tore out the pages I couldn't stand to lose telling myself soon, soon, I would put them somewhere safe. Since then, one of the kids has scribbled on them in blue texta, so I decided to put the words somewhere really safe. Now, you lie beside me with the pages on your tummy, giving them little pats & chirrupping.
The person that is you is amazing. You never fail to make me laugh, never fail to make my heart sing, whether launching yourself from person to person in the 'hug' game, giving me little pats on the back as I carry you, or laughing when I tell you, no, you may not draw on the wall.
From the beginning you were the person we see you as now, so full of life & love, laughter & mischief, & it amazes me.
No comments:
Post a Comment