here i am

the other morning, when you called me with your news i was opening almond butter and spilled the oil all over my kitchen rug this morning as i was spreading my toast, i looked at the bottle and noticed that it will expire in february by the time my almond butter (by then likely to be long eaten up) no longer serves little fingers and toes and nights and tears and joy tuck in and grace your bedroom you'll go from the girl in glasses and mens shirts and belts i met in class the sexy smart woman my friend my confidant the intended the beautiful bride to being the mama of someone like i am this tender earthshatteringly lifechangingly awestriking journey that neither of us thought we'd ever be on i want to offer you every wisdom i've come upon so far but all i can think to tell you is to rest quietly and drink slowly every single heartachingly beautiful, tough, tender drop of the biggest love you'll ever live

she's 11 weeks old today. more smiles as big as her face, more chit chat, especially in the morning. she does this great thing where she pumps one leg up and down and up and down when she's excited. she's bursting with amusement. i am feeling a little sad because i don't think i'm enjoying it as much as i could, because i've hit a wall with sleep deprivation. the other night i took someone's advice - nursed her, pumped a bottle, and let her have a sleep over with papa on the living room floor so i could get eight rich, delicious hours of uninterrupted sleep. i felt human again. i need to do it more often. even though she missed me a little the next day, even though she was a bit clingy. even though co-sleeping is best for us, i do sleep more deeply alone. not as hyper-vigilant. that sort of one-eye-open sleep is not restful. so it's a trade-off. because i'm a better mom when i'm rested. plus, dad's pretty fun too! so ... more res...

i place my finger in the spot where the beginning of her chin joins the bottom of the bloom that is her lower lip. there's a space in time where my heart comes to rest when i do that ... it feels so holy, so sacred, that small peaceful hollow. m

thank you murph - i'd been meaning and meaning and meaning to get here. 'will write more soon' is fast becoming my mantra, deeply as i am immersed in the work of nurturing a little one. she was born a little over eight weeks ago (three weeks early), peacefully at home. things got started with a leaky bag of waters and two days of mild early labor contractions. after a heavy duty acupuncture treatment, active labor went so quickly that it was over almost before we realized it had started! the midwives arrived when i was at transition, and once they finally convinced me to lay down so they could check my dilation, i was complete and she was born two glorious pushes later. and she's a miracle and a marvel and i'm a little less exhausted today than i was the first few weeks, but only a little. but i never ever thought i could be this in love. i never thought smelling someone's head over and over again would be the supreme height of happiness. but it is. from ...

ugh. so it's taken me this long to get back for a few different reasons ... one, i just wasn't in the writing mood. two, i was having trouble logging into my account for some braindead reason, and just now had enough desire to persevere and figure it out! so, sorry for the long delay. but now i have to go fold laundry and so i will just say that i am well, baby is well (we've got a little over two months to go before we meet) and life is life. more soon. promise! m