Day 59

Today, Ellie is eight weeks and three days old, and millions of women and advocates for women are marching in DC to show their support for the rights of women.  I considered packing up our tiny feminist in her BOB stroller but in the end, I worried too much about safety and the crowds to take her.  The necessity of pumping every four hours also made marching logistically impossible.  But we did snap this photo of Ellie wearing her tiny feminist onesie and a pussyhat -- the unofficial uniform of the march -- constructed with safety pins and pink socks.

I will tell her the story someday of this chapter in history, hopefully from a safe vantage point.  And I hope that the events of the last few months will strain her credibility, because it will be so difficult to imagine that so many Americans turned toward a narcissistic charlatan who traffics in bullying and false promises.

When we chose Ellie's proper name, Madeleine, I thought of Madeleine Albright, the first female Secretary of State.  She will make the name her own, but the inspiration of her trailblazing namesake couldn't hurt.  I wrote Ellie a letter after the election, before she was born, and before we had even definitively decided on her name.  I have included it below.

I spent a lot of time thinking about the world we were bringing our precious girl into.  I thought, too, of how she would not be blond and blue eyed, and raised going to church every Sunday, like I was, and what that will mean for her feelings of safety and belonging in the world.  I do not want to wax too political in this space -- but the millions who march today, and the majority of Americans, who cast their votes against our current president, give me hope for the future.  So does this fierce, powerful child, who pumps her arms and legs forcefully, and seems to fight falling asleep, as if she does not want to miss a thing.

Ellie continues to bring us many joyful moments tucked into busy days.  I have begun breastfeeding her, side by side, in the early morning, and I must admit that sometimes we both doze off snuggled in that position.  Sometimes I wake up and see in her profile the clear outlines of how she will look as a four year old or five year old.  She is more with us all the time.  Her eyes follow voices and the brown blur that is Zoe labradoodle on the move.  She packs four or five smiles into a staring contest when she is in a good mood.

We have begun giving Ellie baths in her bigger blue tub, having graduated from the white Puj tub that fits into the bathroom sink.  She rests peacefully in the hammock and enjoys the warm water until I have the nerve to remove her slippery wet body and wrap her in a big towel.  This week, we snuggled in the rocker in her nursery and listened to Abbey Road and Graceland, and I imagined her being the third generation of her family to listen to The Beatles and Paul Simon on road trips.

The most exciting part of Ellie joining our family is how we will be able to watch her blossom more fully into herself each day in the years that come.  She will be a wobbly toddler and a wily six year old who wants to know why, and a gangly tween and a teenager negotiating the headiness of the transition between childhood and adulthood.  What a great joy to travel with her through every adventure.

And how very lucky was are to be traveling in this particular caravan.  It was beautiful to watch Ellie snuggle with her Aunt Shefali during their first visit this week.  We visited Ellie's honorary big brothers, Asa and Beau, again, who have been calling Ellie their little sister; Beau has been carrying a baby doll since his visit with Ellie and asking everyone to be careful with his baby.  My friend Katie brought over a signed copy of a book about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and Beth magically lulled Ellie to sleep during another visit.  And I was thrilled to hear that my mom will be coming to visit for a week in February.

I'll sign off for now -- a fussy little dinosaur has dropped her pacifier a dozen times and requires a new diversion.

11/13/16

My dear Madeleine,

That is what Dad and I are almost sure we are naming you.  I struggled with choosing your name, though Madeleine has been high on our short list.  Last week, the woman we thought would be the first female President, the most qualified candidate in modern history, was defeated by a man who is startlingly unqualified for that office.  This turn of events was at once shocking and reminiscent of the moment when Lucy removes the football Charlie Brown is aiming to kick for the umpteenth time -- you will understand this reference when you are older.

This is not the sane and safe world we meant to bring you into, and yet here you are, nearly ready to be born.  We have not given you the name of that woman who will, to our great dismay, never be President -- but we have chosen the name of the first woman who ever served as Secretary of State.  Your name means "tower" or "great, elevated, magnificent." But rest easy, dear daughter -- we do not expect you to shatter a glass ceiling, unless that is your chosen destiny.  The name felt right to me because I want you to be strong enough to rise above the challenges in your path, in whatever you choose to do. 

We are so eagerly waiting to learn who you are.  Perhaps you will be quiet and serious, a lover of books, a perfectionist.  Perhaps you will have a raucous laugh and a devil may care predilection for scrapes, and a quick reply to any comment.  You could develop a love of horses or poetry or piano or mixed martial arts or ceramics.  You could join the debate club or the school newspaper or the track team. 

It is so hard to believe that you will join us on the outside in just over two weeks.  And then our lives will never be the same again.  Every parent engages in some preparations; we have, as well.  But I confess, I could have read more, I should have hung the art in your nursery by now.  No matter what I have read or ticked off my list, dear, there can be no complete readiness for motherhood.  But I am the only mother you have, and I will work so hard to ensure that you are safe and loved and supported, always.  No matter what I have to do, I must ensure that you have what you need.  

I can feel that you will be am incredible joy to your dad and me, sweetheart.  Thank you for being in our lives.  Thank you for bravely entering an unfamiliar world to be with us. I promise that we will take such careful care of you. 

Much, much love and so many hugs,

Mom