Dear Elise, you're 1 month old...

Dear Elise,

What could a mother possibly say about her first month as a mother? It's hard to capture these last 4 weeks in words, as I've had the highest of highs and some of the lowest of lows. As you peacefully sleep in your swing while I write this, I can really only remember the highs, but ask me at 4 AM when you refuse to sleep, and I'm sure I can remember a low or two. I guess that's what motherhood is all about.

The moment you were born, I was blown away. It was the most surreal moment of my life, to realize that this perfect little being (screaming at the top of her lungs) was mine, all mine. I still can't quite get my arms all the way around that concept, that you are half of me and half of your father. That you are here because of us. It's really too big for me to grasp, so instead of trying to understand it, I'll just accept that you really are ours. Forever.

The few days in the hospital were a whirlwind of visitors, doctors, nurses, lactaction consultants, and more. But what I remember the most are the quiet moments of you, me, and your daddy in our little room, just learning to be a family. We'd stare at you, in our sleep-deprived way, and wonder if we were really ready for this.

Feeding you turned out to be a big struggle, as I really wanted to breastfeed, and it seemed like I was facing mountain after mountain with you. I blamed you for most of our struggles, your impatience and unwillingness to work with me. Turns out it was my fault...I'm sure this won't be the last time I blame you and then learn that it's really my fault. In fact, I better get used to it now! But in the end, we worked through our struggles, and even though you still want to eat every three hours in the middle of the night, watching you nurse is worth any amount of sleep deprivation.


Since the day you were born, you've exerted your independence. Everyone who's met you has commented on your 'fiery' personality. And it is...you definitely work things until they are the way you want them, whether it's how we're holding you, how you're wrapped, or even who's holding you. You can flail your little arms about with the best of them, and your little punch can sure pack a wallop! You've been able to hold your head up really well since you were born, and the past few days, all you want is to be held upright so you can hold your own head and look around. If this is a sign of things to come, we're in trouble!

Your daddy and I are so anxious to know what color your eyes are going to be and what color your hair is going to be and when you are going to smile for real and who you're going to look like and so on. But in the meantime, I'll enjoy every snuggle, every night spent on the couch with you sleeping on my chest, every little sigh you make as you contentedly finish eating, and every time you wrap your little fingers around mine, as I know these moments will be memories before we know it.

Your daddy and I love you more than you will ever know. It's the kind of love that scares you to death when you doctor tells you that you might have a blood clot in your lung, and all you can think about is that you have to live for your daughter. It's the kind of love that makes you hold your own breath so you can hear your child breathing. It's the kind of love that makes life make sense. Thanks for making me a mother; I love you, Mommy