Good morning, Indi.
Every morning is good with you, my love. Because you are my first touch, your babyness my first aroma in the morn, your face my salutation. And when we rise, I think of how you were born into your very first morning in this very same bedroom…right over there, as the slit in the curtains gave way to the heat of the desert morning, and my body gave way to yours.
With each new dawning, you awaken something new – or long forgotten – in me. It is our special time together and I laugh as I watch you raise your chubby arms above your head, squint your eyes and pucker your mouth as you stttrrreeetch out your bean of a body. And you do this over and over again, reveling in the expanse of your muscles and the flow of oxygen to your cells. You face displays complete satisfaction and ease, no cares in the world, no weight on your shoulders, no what-if’s and coulda-been’s and regrets. Just the way a lazy cat reaches out to stretch beneath a sliver of morning goddess sun, purring the whole way. And then, your eyes flicker – two aquamarine jewels nestled between your nose – and they meet mine. And your mouth gives way to a gummy grin that erases all of my what-if’s and coulda-been’s and regrets. I’m a blank slate once again. Seems a fair exchange for some warm mamamilk, doncha think?
Co-sleeping with you has been the ultimate healing and bonding experience. With your sister, nursing had the same effect; slowly, the interchange of nourishment from her to me helped to close my wounds, reminding me that my body was perfect. So much so that I had little wounds to heal by the time you joined us. I cannot get over how tuned in you are to my body; if you are sleepy, all I need to do is lay next to you in bed and your eyelids immediately flutter closed, your breath deepens, and you growl slowly like a tiny bear cub. The downside? You are so in tune that, 50 percent of the time, you also wake up shortly after I depart from said bed. Which makes for very interesting days (i.e. no long nappin’ like your sister has always indulged in).
What a treat, though, to awaken to your broad smile and eyes topped with wonder. Yes, yes, you are akin to a fresh-brewed cup o’cocoa, rejuvenating my spirit. I savor you and sip you in just as much. Last week, while napping with you, I savored the way I awoke with the bridge of my nose snuggled perfectly against your forehead, the tips of our noses touching.
I decided recently that I am simply not going to worry about whether or not you’ll “ever” sleep in your own bed and whether or not you’ll take good naps like Kaia. I’m not releasing any of my precious mama energy to those sorts of worries. I will deal with things one moment, one day, at a time. Honestly, as backwards as it sounds, I think we spend too much of our lives “planning” for the future that we miss out on the beauty right in front of us.
So on this “ah-ha” of a day, while in the grip over agonizing about such things, I finally got it: I realized that you are my baby, my tiny sweet girl, for such a short period of time in the scheme of our lives together. And why spend a majority of it worrying about getting you so damn independent and hyper-scheduled and forced into some set of standards that don’t really apply to you? What will it gain me? And you? If I were utterly sleep-deprived and going insane, then that would be another issue. But it’s not. I’m listening to my body-wisdom and to my intuition, trying to check in periodically. Finally, I am learning. I don’t have any expectations that it will be easy, but motherhood just isn’t any easy job anyways. That one I learned early on.
Seriously, I waited so long for you – thirty years of my life – too long to suddenly try to stuff your needs away for the sake of mine. I had almost three decades of vivacious and indulgent living; sleeping in late with your Papa, traveling across the country, lounging around naked until lunchtime on weekends (nothing’s changed), reading and writing in the cool breeze of the desert for hours…It’s mama-time now. Time to nurture you – my girls – and provide for you and enJOY even the moments that might drain me. My mantra once again is “abunDANCE”. Dance with the way life always, always, always provides.
And I’ll tell you, having surrendered to that makes life so much more pleasurable. Now, I must work on surrendering to Kaia’s tantrums, but that’s another blog entry.
Things you love: Touching and holding anything (you are quite tactile), scooting around on your back when naked, blowing spit bubbles, sleeping in the Moby, your face as snuggled into my chest as possible, watching your sister cavort and destroy things, being propped on my knees – face to face – and chatting, bath/shower time, the great outdoors, looking at pictures in books, being sung to, sucking on your forearms and hands, active nursing, sucking on my hand and knuckles, a binky when you are in the mood for it, tooting, supported standing, gripping things with your monkey toes, rolling from side to side under your play gym,
Things you don’t love: laying on your back for more than 10 minutes (although you do occasionally allow it), being held in the traditional cradle pose, being offered a binky when you aren’t in the mood, sleeping alone for an extended period of time, being laid down suddenly when I have to tend to Hurricane Kaia, riding in the carseat with gas in your belly…
Shoot, let’s just make this easy: you generally don’t like being alone or out of arms. And the oh-so-dramatic frowning face and slow-to-start cry you turn on is so stinkin’ cute I can hardly stand it. It is so…genuine.
See, Kaia’s crying and sad face were most definitely not “cute”. They were intense and real and instantaneous. They required immediate attention. You, my Indi, allow for a grace period. You wind up rather slow and you have more patience in comparison to your big sister. I have to laugh when Daddy and I, or your relatives, say “Oh no, she’s getting mad now”. Because it truly just means that you’ve let out an actual sound or two. You are just that mellow-rific.
I am over the moon that I have two waterbabies. This afternoon, I took a shower with both my girls. Nestled in the safety of my arms, you chirped and cooed and warbled as the warm water drizzled down your soft skin… Kaia happily played on the floor of the shower with her plastic animals. Looking down to see two tiny heads and a mess of pink flesh in that enclosed space was glorious. You’ve only had about 10 baths or showers in your life but you’ve managed to seriously enjoy each one. And girl, you are adorable with your fine, wet hair plastered to your head.
You are an easy baby to adore, Indigo. You are the epitome of ease. It’s everything about you: the way you ride peacefully on my shoulder and let me finagle and rearrange your body in our family bed when you need to nurse. Your tolerant, giving spirit. The way you seem to intuit and trust my intentions. The way you open your grinning mouth wide almost every time I buckle you into your car set. The way that, about three times a day, you let out a long, audible sigh of utter contentment. I mean, for crying out loud, even your poop smells good! And see, Indi, it’s babies like you who make me want to keep on birthing more, and more, and more.
There are so many untold moments when I look at you and cannot believe you are here. My girl, my gift, my Sweet Pea. You are the Dark to my Chocolate, the Yang to my Yin. And I really needed a bit of chocolately Yang in my life (boy, that could really be taken the wrong way…)
I love you, Peanut Butter.