Letter to Elle

Dear Elle,

I'm a bit behind in my blogging because I've been busy taking care of and staring at you ... but I wanted to write you a letter about your first week with us.

For the first few days, you exhausted us. Not to say we're well-rested now, but the first three days especially were rough. I was waiting for my milk to come in, you were pooping constantly, and you were very fussy every time you tried to sleep. We slept in shifts - one of us in the living room with you, because you wouldn't sleep in the pack-n-play in the bedroom - and the other would sleep in the bedroom. I got little naps between feedings. You ate frequently, so I couldn't even really "sleep when you slept" - I might have had 60-90 minutes in between feedings and I couldn't relax enough for cat naps.

But then on about day three of being home things changed - my milk came in, so you seemed more content and slept deeper and longer. You still fussed A LOT when we tried to get you to sleep in the pack-n-play, but now we took turns trying to get you to calm down, not prevent you from full-blown screaming all night. Last night was your best night yet - you slept for three solid increments, and I had to wake you twice to eat. Your dad and I LOVED that and hope you make a habit of it.

We had our first pediatrician appointment on Wednesday, and you weighed 7 pounds, 11 ounces. You did well with everything, and the doctor reassured me on some of the challenges I was facing with breast feeding and gave us some tips and pointers. I think that day was our big turning point - you were getting nutrients and I was reassured that I wasn't the world's worst mother.

You are usually pretty calm during diaper changes now, while for the first few days you made it sound like we were trying to rip your feet off. You loved your first bath, hated your second and seemed to enjoy your third. You seem to like going for walks, although it hard to tell because you sleep a lot, and we've only gone for short walks so far. You seem to like riding in the car, too.

The sleep deprivation hasn't help with my emotions, either. For the first few days, you and I had mutual breakdowns at least once a day. Sometimes they were triggered by sheer frustration on both our parts, other times I was emotionally triggered - filling out the final pages of my pregnancy journal, for example, or having to leave one of the cats at the vet for two nights. Or remembering milestones of leaving for the hospital a week ago, having you a week ago, bringing you home a week ago, leaving you for the first time SINCE NOVEMBER to run a few short errands.

You make the funniest faces, especially when you're done eating or are starting to wake up. You have one expression where your forehead crinkles in these serious, old-man wrinkles. Your dad calls it your bitter-beer face. Your father is very proud of your record as a "Reds fan" - so far the team is 7-1 since you were born. One morning your dad had you for a few hours while I grabbed a 4-6 a.m. nap, and he turned on the classical music channel on the TV to expose you to some culture. You probably recognized the genre from my commute to work, but I thought it was cute that he wanted to balance your baseball watching with your classical music exposure.

Your dad is absolutely fantastic with you - he has gotten pooped and peed on multiple times already and still doesn't complain about changing you :) When you cry, he asks "What's wrong, Baby? Don't cry!" On your first trip to St. Pete, he made sure you knew the scientific reasons why rain was falling from the sky. He insists on carrying your car seat whenever we go out and takes charge of the stroller on our walks, too.

I'm sure you'll use this to your advantage some day soon, but we think you're pretty awesome, and we would do pretty much anything for you. We can't believe how cute you are and that you're finally here. You are absolutely perfect, even when your face is beet red and you're screaming like no one should ever scream or when you choose the worst moments to take the world's most disgusting poo. It seems incredibly hard to believe that for nine months you were kicks, twitches, ultrasound photos and heartbeat checks, and then suddenly, you were a (semi-)tiny, squirmy person lying on my chest, waiting to come home with us and make little grunts (your dad likens them to Billy Bob Thornton's character in "Sling Blade") and incredibly advanced digestive noises.

I'm sure there are tons of other super-important things that have happened this week, but I thought I would highlight a few of them when I got a moment ... and now you have spit up alllll over yourself, so I should probably go clean you up.

Love,
Your mom