Although my hormones have been souring my experience of life in general recently, I am still joyfully, albeit bittersweetly, in awe of how quickly my little Scoops has grown. She is 10 months old today. In honor of my need for rest, I'll keep this post as short as possible.
She has two teeth. The first popped out a few weeks ago, and the second just pushed its first corner through last night.
Her hair has grown in thicker and blonder, with a delicious strawberry tint (I always wanted a ginger baby!).
Her eyes are a beautiful, mysterious blue, dark around the outside, deep and watery in the middle, with the thinnest hint of a sea green ring in the center of all that blue. A friend recently remarked that Scoops' eyes look like the ocean. Their depth is appropriate, as she continues to lock willing victims in her fervent gaze as she peers into their souls (or something dramatic like that).
She is still petite, but she has certainly grown taller. I notice when I lay her down in her crib at night how much more of it she fills. She used to look so tiny, as if she could get lost in her crib. Now she spreads out when she lays down to sleep and takes up about half her crib space with her lanky limbs. She is quite tiny, and we've been monitoring her weight gain to make sure nothing is the matter. She's usually quite cheerful though, and incredibly strong (people who hold her all agree on this point), so I'm of the opinion that she's getting plenty to eat, she's just burning it all off rapidly because she's a spazz.
Speaking of eating, she has started joining us at the table for 3 meals a day for about the past month. She enjoys feeding herself chunks of veggies and fruits (especially black beans!) and has tried carrots, sweet potato, avocado, egg yolk, zucchini, yellow squash, oatmeal, and plum. She's still very fond of breastfeeding, however, and continues to wish I would never wear a shirt. We've added small amounts of water and diluted prune juice to her diet here and there as well, and she's beginning to get the hang of her sippy cup.
She keeps adding fun new skills to her repertoire. A couple weeks ago she began really clapping her hands regularly and exuberantly to show joy or satisfaction. Then she started pointing, folding up her other fingers and just pointing with her index finger. Now she's picked up on our hand washing lessons, and proudly rubs her hands together with a great big smile when I say, "Show me how you wash your hands!" She's been pulling herself up to standing since last month, but last week I caught her standing all on her own, without holding on to anything. She did it right in front of me as I was sitting on the floor talking with a friend, and I'm not sure whether she pulled herself up on my legs (probably) and then let go and stood, or if she just stood straight up from sitting. Either way, I was so caught off guard that I think my excited reaction startled her into sitting down again. I haven't been able to get her to repeat the stunt, but I'm sure she will soon and often. Just another harbinger of the walking to come!
She says words. Real words. I'm crying as I write this, because it means my little baby is growing up. Oh, the paradox of motherhood! We want them to grow into self-sufficient people, but we don't want to lose our babies. But I digress. A couple of weeks ago she was sitting on the potty and heard a dog barking. She looked in the direction of the sound and thoughtfully, quietly said, "dolg." Then she looked me right in the eyes as the dog continued to bark and said definitively, "dog." Actually, to be fair, it looked and sounded like she was saying "doldg," which was one of the cutest things I've ever seen to watch her little mouth and tongue try to catch up with her brain. This morning she heard our neighbors get in their car and start the engine, and she announced, "cahr." She's been saying mama/mommy for a while, and added in dada/daddy a couple months ago, but now she's using non-parental words. It sounds like she's trying to say Opie, our dog's name, too. We just keep encouraging her and going with it whenever we hear her say anything that resembles an appropriate word, like "OK," "yeah," or "grandma," for example.
She climbs up the stairs, fast as anything, when I set her at the bottom (don't worry, I follow closely behind her). She loves to crawl out of the nursery and into mommy and daddy's room. As we chase her and playfully say "I'm gonna get you!" she giggles like it's the funniest thing ever. She loves to play with her reflection in the mirror in the master bedroom, loves to smile at herself in the bathroom mirror, absolutely loves to brush her teeth every morning and evening (she actually gets very upset sometimes when we take the toothbrush away to go have breakfast or bedtime).
She sits on the potty every morning when she wakes up, after naps, and every evening before bed. We try to stay attuned to her signals and take her at other times during the day if we sense she needs to go. We're working on learning the signs for "potty" etc so we can communicate better about this. She's at the point now where she really doesn't like to go poop in her diaper. Pee doesn't seem to bother her much, but she will fuss about poop until we set her on the toilet so she can go like a big girl. I didn't really set out to potty train my infant, just to give her another option besides the diaper, but it seems to be working well for her!
Possibly my favorite little game of hers, which she started last month, I think, but continues to do still, is her imitation our playful nibbling kisses. She grabs our faces in her hands, opens her mouth wide, and latches both lips and gums onto a cheek, chin, forehead, or nose, all while making an "ahhh" noise to (I suppose) imitate our "nom nom nom" sounds when we kiss her like we're gobbling her up. I see her processing and trying to imitate lots of our sounds and behaviors now, which makes me increasingly aware of the fact that I need to curb my language and behave as I want her to behave.
Although she no longer likes to be held "like a baby" unless she's falling asleep, she is still my baby. I will not get ahead of myself, and I will treasure her just as she is, as little as she is, for as long as I can. I will take the good days with the bad. I will pray daily for patience, wisdom, and a massive change of heart to make me into a woman my child will be proud to emulate. Mostly, I will love my daughter, my husband, and myself. And that is enough for now.
A friend very recently asked me to recount some of my pregnancy memories as part of a post-grad project she's working on, and as I condensed the story into a few sentences I realized how much I'm already beginning to forget. Scoops is not even 4 months old yet, but pregnancy feels like it was a lifetime ago. I knew motherhood would change me, but I also knew I wouldn't fully comprehend that change until it had already happened. Giving birth was a true rite of passage, and now that I'm on the other side, I look back fondly at my pregnancy and all I experienced. So here, in a nutshell, are the most memorable moments of my pregnancy:
I remember feeling literally dizzy with excitement when I found out I was pregnant. It was a Sunday morning, and I was frustrated with my period for being late again, so I stumbled to the bathroom to pee on a stick. In my half-asleep state, I suddenly realized mid-stream what I was doing, and the potential significance of the situation immediately woke me up completely. I was so ready to be pregnant, I just didn't believe I was. I thought it would take so much more time and effort. So when two little blue lines cheerfully appeared, I was floored. And elated! I laughed, I cried, and I definitely felt dizzy.
I remember the awful, horrible nausea of my first trimester. Ginger made it worse, Preggie Pop Drops made it better, until they didn't and made it worse. Then I found hot tea, of almost any variety, was a good fix, until it wasn't. I spent a whole beautiful sunny Saturday indoors with the blinds all shut, crying my eyes out and forcing myself to nibble on strawberry flavored coconut milk ice cream (God bless Trader Joe's!) because it was the only thing that didn't make me want to hurl (I did eventually add white rice doused in soy sauce to my diet). I remember finally giving in to taking anti-nausea meds, and crying because "If I can't handle the nausea how will I handle labor??"
I remember feeling more beautiful than I ever had in my life, and I only felt more beautiful as my belly got bigger. I was the easiest time I've ever had accepting compliments. People told me I was glowing, and I actually saw the glow they were talking about. Plus, my skin completely cleared up (except for one "bad" bout of pregnancy acne in the very middle of my pregnancy), so that was undeniably a major self-esteem boost.
I remember waiting to feel "over it" and ready to rip the baby out myself like everyone swore I would, but when I finally did feel that way at almost 9 months in, it only lasted about 10 minutes before I was content again. I truly enjoyed being pregnant, feeling so close to my unborn child, and especially knowing that my baby was the safest she'd ever be while she was in my belly.
I remember worrying about my back giving out and not being able to labor and give birth naturally and without medication. I've suffered from chronic back pain and spasms since I was a teenager, so this was a very real fear, as a spasm was a very real possibility for me. Ultimately I had to practice mindfulness and constantly remind myself not to obsess over what might happen in the future. In the end, I had a terrible spasm the week before I went into labor, and spent the entire week resting in bed. Obviously I didn't know it was THE week before I was going into labor, because I was still a little less than 2 weeks away from my due date, but the point is I had the terrible spasm before labor, not during.
I remember feeling totally unprepared when I did go into labor, immediately after my back had finally healed from that week-long spasm. I remember crying, in fact, about how not ready the nursery and house were. The house was an absolute filthy mess because I'd been unable to clean for a week (but let's be real, it had been well over a week since I'd cleaned the place). The nursery had a crib, and a dresser with a changing pad set up, and that was about it. All the artwork I'd wanted to hang still sat on the floor, many of the gifts I'd been given hadn't been put away, and certainly nothing was organized. I had even started a big 4 foot square painting that was nowhere near close to finished (it still isn't). #nestingfail. Interestingly, however, I didn't cry because I felt unprepared for labor itself, just because I felt like my home wasn't ready to receive my new baby.
I remember feeling so grateful that my husband and I took birthing classes, because he was the best coach I could have asked for, and made my entire 33+ hour labor bearable. Aside from one faux pas (he ran over to the neighbors' house to give them a spare key so they could feed the dog while we were at the hospital, and snuck a couple garlic cheese balls while he was there -- I nearly vomited on him when he came back), he was by my side the entire time, even when he napped while my mom took over to give him a break. He said all the right things, massaged my back and hips, kept me hydrated, timed every contraction, and stayed in constant contact with our doula and family. He was so confident in his role as my coach, and I trusted him completely to help me get through the most difficult task I'd ever faced.
I remember the moment my daughter emerged from my body; how surprisingly quickly she was placed on my chest; how I was confused by my lack of immediate familiarity with that tiny, wriggly stranger, but how compelled I felt to cover her tiny moist face in kisses anyway. (I remember thinking for half a second "Is it weird that I want to kiss her even though she's still covered in body fluids?" But then immediately realized, "Nope, no it's not.") I truly was surprised that I didn't instantly "know" her. I thought after 9 months of talking to her, singing to her, dreaming about her, and waiting for her arrival that I would feel instant recognition when I finally held her. But when she made her appearance on that Sunday morning (ironic, huh?), I felt instead that I needed to instantly learn who she was! (Turns out, that's not a bad challenge to undertake.)
It's a little bittersweet to reduce my entire pregnancy into a few short paragraphs. At the time, it was absolutely the most important thing I'd ever done with my life, but I knew that it would pale in comparison to motherhood. I was pregnant last Mother's Day, and while some people asked me whether I was celebrating and some informed me that I ought to, I maintained that it was a practice round. I didn't fully feel like a mother yet because I wasn't one yet. Pregnancy is to labor is to parenthood what an engagement is to a wedding is to marriage. I honestly enjoyed every moment of my pregnancy (except for those 10 minutes near the end when I actually felt "over it"), and now that I've crossed the bridge into motherhood, I don't want to forget the important but relatively brief events that brought me here. I will never again be pregnant for the first time, and I hope I never forget what that felt like.
