Day 15

Two weeks and one day have passed quite quickly.  We went to the pediatrician yesterday for Ellie's two week visit.  She weighed in at 7 pounds and 3 and a half ounces -- surpassing the two week goal of reaching her birth weight (7 pounds and 1 ounce).  Ellie is a bit of a string bean -- 20th percentile for weight, 40th percentile for height, and 65th percentile for head size. Despite the relatively large size of her head, Ellie is surprisingly adept at lifting her head.  The pediatrician commented on her neck strength while Ellie was demonstrating her hungry woodpecker routine -- when a hungry Ellie is resting on my chest, she roots around looking for a nipple like a woodpecker and grabbing at my clothing.  

It is difficult to discern an infant's temperament, particularly when a parent does not have extensive experience with other infants, but I suspect that Ellie will have a strong and determined mind of her own.  And I am sure that will lead to debates over whether she must wear shoes and whether she can have a puppy and when she will receive a cell phone -- but I would be delighted by and proud of her strength of spirit despite the potential for extra parent child bickering.

Ellie has a new party trick in week three, which she debuted at her two week appointment -- wet, runny poops during diaper changes. Oops.  We are attempting to untangle all of the mysteries that typically confound new parents -- how to reset Ellie's sleeping rhythms so that more sleep happens at night, how much to feed her so that she is satisfied but does not erupt surplus milk.

My mom spent more than a week with us and left yesterday.  It was so special to see her and Ellie together.  Mom crooned sweet tunes from her impressive array of musical selections and rocked Ellie for hours.  Ellie was completely at peace in her arms and I was reminded of all the mothering my mother has done -- seeing and swaying newborns, patiently reasoning with toddlers, assembling thousands of brown bag lunches, bravely teaching her teenaged offspring to drive, listening for the click of the front door just after curfew.  It all lies ahead of us and the passing of each day is bittersweet. I am thankful for every day that our child feels healthy and loved and grows one day older.  I take none of this for granted; it is our lives' most meaningful work.  And yet each day is precious and happens but once.

And so the goal is to be as present as possible for all of it.  To learn to drink in the joy and rebuff the mundane distractions of the tidiness of the house, the unfolding catastrophe of unexpected election results, the uncertainty surrounding my future at work.  This family is the solid center of our lives.  Every other thing will grow smaller in the rearview mirror.