Thursday, July 31, 2014

Six Days Old

Photo Jul 29, 1 32 28 PMPhoto Jul 29, 1 32 43 PMPhoto Jul 29, 11 33 37 AMPhoto Jul 30, 8 30 07 AMPhoto Jul 30, 10 10 18 AM (1)Photo Jul 31, 9 27 08 AM

I suppose that, just as amazing as the creation of this baby is – an entire body all set and ready to go, ready to house a spirit when, nine months ago, nothing more than a small speck of it existed – equally amazing is that they come somehow handing you a full supply of something like . . . love and utter devotion.

It’s kind of a good little magic trick I suppose. “Here I am,” they say. “Feed me, and comfort me, and wake up all night with me. Change non stop diapers, and wipe spit up and be, as a side of birthing me, a bit of a physical disaster yourself.” And somehow they have us agreeing wholeheartedly, covering them with kisses, wanting to hold them even when we finally get a moment to set them down, and overall convinced that these helpless and utterly demanding creatures are the greatest treasure we’ve ever been given.


And they are.

They are impossible. And miraculous. And I already want to weep that, in even a few weeks time, she’ll leave her complete “newness” behind.

Here is the beginnings of a little post I started, and never finished, the other evening:

I'm sitting on our big, brown, living-room couch in an utterly quiet house.

The insanely hot July weather we've been having has taken the day off and a cloudy, evening has set in. Outside our many windows I see trees blowing strongly in the wind.

Mike has taken the kids off to run errands and left me here – alone with our three-day-old daughter.

I've purposefully unswaddled her as she sleeps resting against me – even though I know that means there will be no chance of setting her down without her startling herself back awake; but I wanted to be able to rub her wrinkly, little feet; and run my fingers along the peach fuzz covering her impossibly soft shoulder and arm. Her lower lip is pushed somewhat sideways from her cheek being snuggled up against me. I can hear her short little breaths and see her small, blonde lashes.

I imagine I didn’t finish it because Summer demanded otherwise, and, at six days in, I still have no clue how, or when, life will be the least bit normal again. I don’t know how we’ll manage when we can no longer sit in this “time out” stage of all of life revolving around her unpredictable wants and needs; but, I feel so incredibly grateful to be in the place that I am. A place that allows me to appreciate things like fuzzy arms, tiny ears, and baby smell without battling a sense of panic at the same time. I’ve had that overwhelming sensation with some of my newborns; enough to be incredibly grateful that I don’t seem to have much of it now.


Linn said...

I honestly cannot see enough pictures of her...or your sweet family. Little Summer has a wiseness (not a word, it should be) to her that even comes through in pictures. She sure knows a whole lot. She is a beauty, inside and out.

Kara said...

perfection. love the pictures, too.

Marilyn said...

My husband and I just had this conversation. After my first baby I had the time to just sit and enjoy/love/admire him, but not the experience (too panicked! Confused! Worried! Didn't know how soon each stage would pass!) and now I have the experience but not the time (too many other kids/things needing my time and focus!). It seems ironic (I guess) and sad, like that O. Henry story about the watch and the hair (you know, she sold her hair to buy a watch chain and he sold his watch to buy her hair combs)---and it has made me wonder "why does it have to be that way?!" But as we talked about it we decided it is a good reminder to enjoy everything in its time, and be grateful in each moment for what it is, not expecting it to be MORE than it is or waiting until some kind of perfect time to be happy. Like Elder Uchtdorf's talk in conference about gratitude. If you don't just enjoy what there is to enjoy in the moments you have, you will NEVER be able to enjoy anything, because that ideal time (when you have both unlimited time AND the vast experience to completely enjoy a baby, for example) will never come. Anyway. Not sure if you even wrote about that, actually, but that's what your post made me start thinking about. :)

In other news, your Summer is just so beautiful. I love that picture of your Goldie, or is it Daisy, kissing her on the head. Pure sweetness. And by the way where did you get the bunny outfit? I love it.

I keep forgetting I don't know you in real life. I just almost said, "I can't wait to meet Summer." Well, maybe fate will bring us together someday. :)

Shannon said...

Such beautiful photo of this special niece of mine. As you know, I already feel sick a connection to her and like I've known her for ages. I wish I could be with her every second while the veil is still so thin. I love you!

Nancy said...

Linn, thank you; and, I am always writing perfect words that, oddly aren't words . . . which is, of course, utter nonsense. I like her having a wiseness to her!

Shan, I wish she had hours to just sleep peacefully on her dear aunt's chest. I know she loves you so much.

Marilyn, I don't really know what I said in this post, but what it made YOU say is just what i needed to hear. So right, rarely will every element combine for perfect situations. All the more reminder to me to enjoy each and every part of this that there is to be enjoyed. And . . . the bunny jammies! :) I forgot about you and your bunny love! They were an Old Navy find, but handed down from Penny who is SEVEN. Weird. How can I have this many kids and have a seven year gap in girls? It happened with my boys too. Eight years between first and second boy children.

Val said...

Oooooh, congrats!! What a beauty! So happy for you and your family! So nice to see you enjoying those moments of perfect bliss!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...