You became a person for me today

I haven’t been blogging much since you were born, but that doesn’t mean things have been boring– far from it!  In the past four and a half months I’ve been busy learning how to take care of you, both physically and emotionally.  It’s amazing how much can happen in such a short period of time, and my head spins a bit thinking back on it all.  Fortunately I took lots of photos and shot lots of video to help remember everything, and of course I’ve been keeping track of all of your milestones from the very beginning, so you’ll always have a rich record of what happened when.  But what I want to write about tonight is something that isn’t on paper or in a computer file… it’s about how you’ve become a real person to me.

That might sound funny or strange, but you have to understand that a newborn is hard to think of as a person, at least for me.  I loved you deeply from the moment I first touched you in the operating room, but that’s different from what I mean.  I am talking more about your personality, your inner life, even your soul.  You have been taking small steps towards this day since you were born, and then something just clicked during our time together tonight, and I realized that I was getting my first glimpse of who you are as a person, with a sense of humor and a deep need and love for me.  But first let me tell you a bit about some of the moments leading up to tonight.

I think the first time I really noticed you as a person with an emotional life of your own was when you were about six weeks old.  You were crying because you were still hungry after I had breastfed you, and I started to cry out of frustration that my breast milk wasn’t enough for you. You immediately stopped wailing and looked at me in surprise.  You studied my face for so long that you forgot your own unhappiness.  You didn’t start to cry again and instead just went back to trying to feed.  It was an amazingly powerful moment and I remember being completely awed by the fact that you had displayed empathy.

(By the way, after the last post about not giving up, I had to go back to supplementing you with formula in order to keep your growth up.  I don’t think of this as giving up so much as being realistic, and I haven’t regretted it for a second, although I’ll always wonder if it could have been different if we’d had a better start in the hospital and first few weeks home.)

I also remember how Grandma made you laugh so hard your belly shook back in December, about a month ago.  She was only making a silly noise and face to go with it, but you thought it was hilarious, and Grandma and I were both amazed at the sheer joy you showed.  That was the first time I realized you had a sense of humor.

And of course you’ve been gazing at me from the beginning, starting in September with a game I called Googly Eyes, where we’d just lay on the bed and look at each other.  You were incredibly focused during those sessions, and I came away from them certain that you understood our bond as mother and daughter.  In the past few weeks you’ve started using your hands to explore my face, hands and any other part of me you can reach, often just playing with the hem of my pajamas or stroking my chin while you’re feeding.  It’s like you can’t get enough of me by just looking and you’re trying to memorize the feel of me.

Somehow all of these things came together tonight when I was changing you for bed.  You looked deep into my eyes and held my gaze for what seemed an eternity.  You then blew a raspberry and waited for me to do the same, giving me a belly laugh when I answered.  The game went on for about ten minutes, with some time in between of you holding my face.  It may not sound like much as you read this, but it was the first time I really saw all of the parts of your personality working together and it just hit me– you are my daughter, Audrey.  It’s such a strong feeling that I want to go in and wake you up and just hug you for the rest of the night.

I’ve often cried when I was feeding you late at night and Bach’s “Jesu Bleibet meine Freude” (Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring) plays on the CD Grandpa gave us.  There’s something about the music that makes me think about your future and all of the things that I hope for you in it.  And tonight, for the first time, I got a glimpse of the person you are becoming, and it is beautiful.  You are a happy, curious, loving baby that I am sure will become a wonderful little girl and, eventually, a lovely woman.  I can hardly wait to see what you make of this life that I have given you, and I am so happy to be your mother, Audrey.