Dear Baby: Week One
|Annie: 9 days old|
You’re here, my girl. And you’re perfection. I knew you would be, but I wasn't at all prepared for it. It hit me so hard, in the very best way, the second we met you.
You’re just over a week old. It gets a tiny bit easier day by day, this parenting thing. Thank you for being so patient with us. We’re learning. The first 24 hours of your life were a big, happy, tired, blur. You were born in the afternoon, and once all of our family members left for the evening, it was just you and me and Daddy, all alone in our hospital room. I hadn't slept in over 36 hours, but I still couldn't sleep at all that first night. Every time you made a peep, I was up to comfort you. If you were too quiet, I was up to make sure you were still breathing. I wanted to hold you all night, but I was too afraid to fall asleep with you in my arms. Just before seven o’clock, the sunlight peeked through the window, and I breathed a sigh of relief. We had made it through your first night, and I thought, “We can do this.” I should have rested then, once the doctors and nurses and other family members were there to help us take care of you, but I couldn't stop staring at your tiny, lovely features.
Since then, we've gotten better at taking care of you. Daddy loves to cuddle you. I love to kiss your cheeks. With each diaper change, every-two-hour feeding session, the rocking, the consoling—with those things come a cuddle, a newborn “grin,” your sweet voice, and the way you nestle into one of us as you fall asleep. Those are the golden moments, my girl. We love you.