I just clicked "publish" on the previous blog post, and realize it took the date of my first attempt at writing it - way back in 2009. Making this post the first of 2010.
If blogs still exist by the time Corrie gets to be reading age, she'll likely realize a little disparity in the blog of her infancy and the one of her sister's. If she is the type to compare and contrast, she may come to me with a legitimate question: you didn't blog much about my first months, so what do you remember? And when she does, here's what I'll tell her:
I remember knowing that you were going to be strong even before you left my body. And your first sucks, your first kicks, and your first cries didn't prove me wrong.
I remember realizing that it was possible for a baby to be awake, alert and not crying. This was mind-blowing. You taught me that, my dear child.
I remember when you stopped crying for me at night and started chirping. You seemed to realize that a full-on tearful cry was just not worth your energy. You got the same response with a few coughs and chirps, and with a lot less effort than angry sobs. Even when you wake hungry at 3:00 am, you generally greet me with a smile and we smile and talk all through your diaper change. Your mood only darkens if I take too long, my tired fingers fumbling at all those snaps in your sleeper.
I remember your first smiles, around six weeks. Shy smiles, smirks, that crept up one side of your face. It didn't take long for them to broaden and fill up your entire face, all chubby cheeks and triple chins.
I remember how little you cried. Sure, you scream in deep fury when buckled into your car seat. And we can set a watch by your pre-nap fusses. But if there's no car seat around, and if a nap was at least 30 minutes away, you were happy. Or at least, content.
I remember how you started to slide into sleeping through the night quite easily, about two weeks ago. And even when you don't, it's an easy hour together and then we're both back in bed.
I remember how fascinated you were by your older sister. Even when she's not as gentle as she needs to be, even when she pushes and prods and grabs and pokes, you stare at her with huge eyes, taking her all in. And tonight at dinner, I do believe she was the subject of your first baby giggles. I will always remember that.
But most of all, I'll tell her, what I remember the most of your first few months are those moments where you were lying on a blanket, or perched on the middle of a bed, staring at me with wide-eyed wonder as I negotiated another terrible twos tantrum of your older sister.
I'll confess, the squeaky and screaming wheel of our family does get the attention she seeks right now. But I love you, my dear Corrie Lou, in your silences. I love you in your chirps and in your car-seat furies. I love you in your smiles and in the deep frowns that take about five minutes to turn into sobs.
And if, as I suspect, you grow up to often play the audience to big sister's emotional outbursts, know that I love you in your steadiness and for teaching me that a few well-executed chirps and smiles will be even more effective than screams.
And I'll say, sure, the blog is a little lacking for your first three months. Sure, your baby book is a tad sparse. But we took lots of pictures...
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