Long Overdue

Dear Riley,

Today you start your first day of "school". I am heartbroken for a number of reasons, but mostly because (a) it means that you are growing up way too fast and (b) it means that I no longer get to spend every day hanging out with you, Winston & Wrigley. I am so grateful for the three months we all got to spend with each other this summer and I wouldn't trade them for anything. I will miss you as you spend your days at school and I spend mine at work, but all this means is that we will all treasure the weekends even more.

In these past twelve weeks, I have watched you grow from a teeny, tiny little guy who liked to do nothing but sleep (mostly in someone's arms -- fortunately they were usually mine) and eat into a smiling, cooing baby boy who can brighten anyone's day with his smile. Yesterday, when we were at the grocery store, a woman came up to us and asked permission to talk to you. You flashed her your big grin and she told me you'd made her day. You made mine too. I am so proud to be your mommy.

I have been so bad about documenting your first twelve weeks in words (fortunately, I have been good about documenting them in photos), and so on this, your first full day off on your own in this great big world of ours, I want to try to remember all of the special things (be them great or small) from your first three months in our lives.

I'll start with the day you, your daddy and I left the hospital. You will be happy to know that the first movie you ever saw (while we were waiting an insane amount of time to be released) was "Fever Pitch", which is the story of a middle-aged man who is absolutely obsessed with the Red Sox. It was just coincidence that this movie was showing, but Daddy couldn't be happier that it was your first movie (you may or may not know this, but Daddy brought dirt from the outfield at Fenway Park to the hospital with us when you were born and the dirt was the first thing your foot ever touched). After we were finally released, Daddy went to the car while you and I were wheeled downstairs by some kind nurse who, no joke, had to wait with us for almost 30 minutes while Daddy continuously drove in loops past the entrance where he was supposed to pick us up (he just could NOT seem to figure out how to get to us). All the while we were watching (and laughing) as he kept driving by. After he finally made it to us, it took awhile for us to load you into the car. Your carseat was not terribly scary without you in it, but wow, it took on a whole new level of scariness when we had to strap you in. We were afraid we'd hurt you. Not to mention that you were crying as we tried to load you in. (Incidentally, now, three months later, we practically throw your carseat into its base all in one motion.) You were so kind as to fall asleep in the 3 minutes that it takes to drive from the hospital to our house (although, I must admit, it probably took more like 10 minutes to get home because Daddy drove SO slowly). You lulled us into a false sense of security, so when we arrived home, Daddy immediately decided to mow the lawn while I tried to get things situated just so in the house. We were determined that our lives would not be the slightest bit altered by your arrival. (I should note here that I was more worried about how I'd feel about seeing Winston and Wrigley than I was about pretty much anything else, and sobbed uncontrollably when I saw them because I instantly realized that I still loved them just as much and didn't feel any differently about them -- I had feared that your arrival would make me think of them as second class citizens, which I am proud to say, they still are not.) Winston and Wrigley were a nice welcoming committe and sniffed you like crazy. Wrigley licked your face and you were startled, but didn't seem to mind. We all even took a walk around the block that day -- probably not a great idea since I had just undergone pretty major surgery two days earlier -- I was sore for a few days.

The rest of your first few weeks of life were fairly uneventful. You spent a lot of time sleeping and eating, and we all spent a lot of time getting to know each other. Daddy returned to work the Monday after you were born, so you, Winston, Wrigley and I were on our own all day. We spent most of our time outside. You LOVED to go on walks (and Winston and Wrigley did too), I needed the fresh air to keep me awake, and all four of us liked to hang out on the front porch (out of the sun, of course, because I was deathly afraid of exposing you to any rays that might burn your delicate skin). I spent many hours rocking you on the chair on that front porch, with you tucked into a tiny ball on my chest, while Winston sat next to us getting his head scratched and Wrigley chased her ball.

At night, Daddy would come home from work and take you, Winston and Wrigley for walks while I had an hour or so to myself. I will never be able to put in words how wonderful this was for all of us, and how grateful I am that I married a man like Daddy who recognized that I needed that time and was even the one to suggest it. It gave Daddy a chance to get to know you all on his own, and it gave me some time to recharge. Daddy downloaded a children's radio station on his Blackberry, so you'd listen to music and he'd watch the play-by-play of the Red Sox game on his phone, all while you took those walks. I think Winston and Wrigley really came to like you during this period because it meant more walks for them. The neighbors all got a kick out of the four of you on your little adventures.

There were times at the beginning where I thought I was slowly going insane. Finding a moment to take a shower or catch a short nap was almost non-existent for me those first few weeks, and I felt like I couldn't leave you for a second. You cried a lot because Daddy and I didn't know how to listen to what you were telling us. I'm sure we did the wrong thing much of the time, but you seem to have either forgiven us or to have forgotten about it already. I remember times during the middle of the night when you wouldn't stop crying where, although I wouldn't have given you up for the world, I found myself wishing for our old lives back. I'd cry when you were crying. I'd cry because I was exhausted and didn't know when the exhaustion would end. I longed for the days when I could curl up on the couch with Winston or sit on the front steps to throw the ball for Wrigley with Winston sitting in my lap. I missed eating dinner with Daddy and going out to grab a beer if we felt inclined to do so. I felt horribly guilty about those feelings, but have come to learn that they are normal for all new mommies. Now I can't imagine a time without you, and even if I could, I wouldn't want to go back.

Nursing you has had its ups and downs. You "had a good latch" the day you were born, and you've always had a good appetite. Some mommies say that nursing is such a bonding experience. For the first 10 weeks or so, you'd quietly eat with your eyes closed, and I never felt any particular sense of bonding. In the last two weeks though, you have started to look me in the eyes while you're eating, and it just makes my heart melt. You look so interested in the silly stories I'm telling and the horrible rendition of songs I sing (I swear, by the way, that they have changed the words to many of the children's songs since I was a kid -- your daddy and I find ourselves knowing one or two lines of the songs and then being completely baffled by how they end). Speaking of songs, Daddy loves to sing to you. If "Thunder Road" or "Please Come to Boston" are favorites of yours when you grow up, I will not be surprised.

But back to the ups and downs of nursing. There were a number of occasions where I would swear that you were trying to torture me. You would turn your head 180 degrees, all while still "latched on". I even got a few bruises (who knew that was even possible?!?!). I almost feel like I should start mammograms now because they would dull in comparison. In spite of the pain that I had to endure, I wouldn't make a contrary decision if I had to do it all over again. During the first month especially, you were so cute when you nursed. You'd make these crazy squeaking noises while you were eating. Sometimes you'd squeak so loudly that Daddy would ask if there was something wrong. It was hilarious. And I loved having an excuse to hold you in my arms when no one else could make a claim to you. That said, however, there were certain nights when I would be exhausted when you'd wake up at 2:00 a.m. and want to be fed and I'd look over at your daddy who was peacefully sleeping next to me with Wrigley at his feet and Winston draped over his head on the pillows and I'd almost hate him for looking so content when I had to drag myself out of bed, feed you, and then try to get you to go back to sleep, all without waking Daddy up because he had to work the next day and I knew he was exhausted. In his defense, he spent many nights (after I had turned one of the nighttime feedings over to him -- we started that when you were 3 weeks old) taking you for walks so that I could sleep. I'd hear him snapping you into your carseat, and then he'd call for the dogs, and the four of you would go trudging down the streets of Ardmore at 3:00 a.m. Daddy says it's amazing how many of our neighbors seem to be awake at that ungodly hour.

Speaking of your carseat, you have always loved it. When you were first learning how to go to sleep for long periods of time at night, we could not get you to settle down in your crib (for the record, you never did sleep in the bed with us, but you did sleep in a bassinet in our room for about 3 or 4 weeks). You would, however, fall asleep in your carseat. So we taught you to be comfortable in your crib by putting your carseat in your crib and letting you sleep that way. We're probably not going to win any "Parents of the Year" awards for that, but it worked for us. After about a week of that, you started sleeping in your crib without the carseat and you have never turned back.

Now you are a great sleeper. You almost always fall asleep in the car, even if it's a short ride. The same is true for walks. You take two or three naps every day. And even with all of that sleep, you STILL sleep about 12 hours a night (you have been doing that since you were 7-1/2 weeks old -- such a good boy -- THANK YOU!!!!). Your bedtime is 7:30 p.m., and you seem ready for it most nights. From when you first started sleeping through the night until about 10 weeks, we'd have to hold a pacifier in your mouth until you'd fall asleep. You could not settle yourself down, even though we all knew you were tired. It was pretty funny putting you to sleep this way -- you'd suck on your pacifier with gusto at first with your arms held up in anger at your chest, and then you'd start sucking a little less, and then your arms would s-l-o-w-l-y start to slip down so that your hands would hit the mattress at the sides of your head (almost as if you were giving the "fieldgoal" sign that football referees use). But when your hands would actually hit the mattress, you'd startle yourself, start crying and then the whole process of drifting off to sleep would start all over again. After about five or six cycles, you'd drift off to sleep for good. Then we'd wake you up at 10:00 p.m. for your last feeding of the night (we got smart and started giving you formula for this feeding because it takes longer for your little body to digest, and therefore gives Mommy and Daddy a longer period of uninterrupted sleep). You'd pretty much eat this meal in your sleep (LOTS of funny squeaking noises during this -- much like when you were nursing in your early days), and then we'd put you back in your crib and you'd fall right back to sleep. When you were about 10 weeks old, you got very good at sucking on your thumb and your fingers. Now that you know this trick, and that sucking on your hands in general makes you feel better, we just plop you down in your crib after you eat at 7:30 p.m. and you will contentedly fall asleep all on your own about 5 or 6 nights a week (the other night or two, you seem to just want to hang out with us for a little while longer, and will then go to sleep happily after we play for another 15-20 minutes). There have been many nights after we've shut your bedroom door and are out watching t.v. in the family room next to your nursery that we've thought you were asleep until we heard a very loud slurping sound. We can just picture you in there slurping on your hands, and always have a good laugh. I will never grow tired of that sound. Until you started "school", you'd sleep until 8:00 or 8:30 a.m. (we even found ourselves wishing a time or two on the weekends that you'd just wake up so that we could go for our morning walk to Starbucks and Miller Park). Now that "school" has started, you usually wake up between 7:00 and 7:30 a.m.

You are at your funniest in the mornings. You don't wake up crying like some babies. Nope, not you. Instead, we wake up because we hear you talking. I don't know if you're talking to yourself or if you're talking to "Wally" (the Red Sox mascot who is on the mobile above your bed) or if you're talking to someone else that we can't see, but it is just so darn cute. I love waking up to that sound in the mornings. It is a surefire way to start the day in a good mood. When we come in to get you out of your crib, you are pretty much always tipped over on your side sucking your thumb. And when you see us for the first time in the morning, you always flash one of your great big gummy smiles. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. After you've had a great big breakfast (I let you nurse extra long in the mornings now that I've gone back to work so that I get a few extra minutes of special time with you), I take you to go get changed. Although you hated to get changed when you were first born (you'd cry the whole time -- maybe you were cold), you love it now. You smile and coo and kick your feet and wiggle all around. It is one of the highlights of my day.

One of my other favorite things about this early period in your life was picking you up. I still can picture in my mind (although you rarely do it now) how you looked when we'd pick you up after a nap (whether it be a nap in someone's arms, on Grandpa Jim's chest, in your swing, in your carseat -- anywhere). You would still be all tucked together with your little legs pressed up to your chest and you'd point your head up to the sky and stick your lips out almost like you were trying to touch them to your nose. I tried countless times to capture it on film, but never could. I hope I never forget what it looks like.

You are now three months old, and today is one of the most difficult of my adult life. Daddy and I both dropped you off at school together this morning. Neither of us wanted to leave you. I cried so hard. But not you. Nope, you were a big, brave boy and didn't even flinch. You were strong when I couldn't be, and I am forever grateful to you for that. I'm pretty sure that if you'd cried, we wouldn't have been able to leave you there. And we know that having you there is good for all of us. You will make friends, you will learn to be independent of us, you will learn things from your teachers and the other kids that we could never teach you. And Daddy and I will work hard all day, and have adult conversations, and think hard, and show you what it means to have to work for the things you want, and we'll all be the better for it. But we will miss you. We will miss you so much during those long days. But you know what, I bet we will all love every single second that we get to spend together at night and on the weekends, and that in itself is as special as these 12 weeks I've gotten to spend getting to know you and spend time with you have been.

I am so proud of you, and Daddy and I love you so much. Be good at school, be kind to your teachers, and be safe. See you in 9 hours, my little man.

Love,
Mommy