Water Baby!

I'm sure Misty will put up a better post about this and we'll for sure toss up more pics, but here are a few quickies from our trip down to Costa Rica for Leslie and Mike's (Uncle Bear) wedding.

Our villa in Costa Rica. We had a great time.

Samaire loved.... LORVED!!! the ocean.

Bride and Matron of Honor

breastfeeding

She's eating dinner now, of course - apples, pears, bananas - so I know I'm on borrowed time. She's easily distracted now, eager to get going - not so eager all the time to lay down, snuggle and eat. I'm going to miss our special time together when she's done with it. It's been one of my favorite things about this whole new mom thing. I truly love doing it. Feeding her. I love that it's something only I can give her, time only she and I have. A way for me to show her how very much I love her, want to care for her. I love holding her so close.

I love the look on her face when I lay her down in my arms to eat ... big eyes, open mouthed smile, excited breathing with her arms stretching toward me. I love how she sighs contentedly after a few swallows. How she looks up at me with wide, adoring eyes. How she sometimes talks a little long monologue without ever missing a swallow. How she pats my chest with her little free hand, or reaches up to touch my cheek. How when she is really hungry she makes little chirps and slurping sounds. How she takes a break to smile at me right before nuzzling back in.

I love the sound of her tiny contented sighs right at the moment she's done eating and lays her head back to sleep.

I love it all. There was (and still is) a lot I wanted to give her. This, however, was very near the top. I was determined to make it work, no matter how hard or inconvenient it might turn out to be. I wanted it for her so badly. What I didn't realize was how very much it would give me.

And now that I can see the slow tapering, I feel that special ache I'm getting so used to now. That sadness that she is not going to be my little, tiny baby much longer - and the sheer excitement of watching her grow into being my daring, darling girl.

Maire at her fave bodega

The men at Seven Brothers love her, and she them. They're just a handful of the adopted neighborhood family we've gathered here in Hell's Kitchen.

Um, Wow.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=99478226&ps=cprs

Best. Baby.Ever.

Even on days I don't feel well. On days where before I would have slept all day - I wait anxiously by your side for you to wake. You are my every day miracle.


Chasing Happy

I've avoided writing about this for a long time for a myriad of reasons. Mostly, pride. Right behind that, fear that I would seem ungrateful, which I am not. I wake up every day knowing how lucky I am. How the stars have somehow aligned to bring me this life, this home, this family. Sam and Samaire are my world, and I am blessed blessed blessed to inhabit it.

But.

But.

How to find the words? The words to explain, to put meaning to, to somehow make physical this aching in my chest? The waking in the night, the anxiousness during the day. I *want* to be unerringly happy, and by all accounts I should be and yet there is this place inside me where tears live so close to the surface. Where my skin is raw and where I feel, ultimately and undeniably vulnerable. Is this something every new mom goes through? Something that is just left over demons from my before-life? I don't know. What I do know is that this small sliver of me affects my days. Affects my life in ways I wish it wouldn't.

I skirt around the word "depression." I know what it means, I have been its bedfellow. This seems to be it's cousin, the same and yet still distant. I can fight through it often. It debilitates me not, but it hounds me relentlessly. I have days when I feel on the verge of a breakdown every second and it feels as if it takes all I have to just keep going, keep moving. I don't know how best to describe it. I obviously lack the right words.

I am hoping it's hormones. That I will wake up and it will be gone one morning. Cobwebs finally shaken off. I know that part of it is the return to "the real world" after being home with Maire for so long; of living in my own eden for a while. I know too that it's me figuring stuff out. My life is so wonderful in all its other places, the few I'm still balancing and trying to figure out nip at my heels. And of course, it's me - finding myself again. Trying hard to find, to make, to find value again in the things only I can do. Things that are not of Maire. Not of our home. Not of us, Sam and I.

Of finding the trust that she will still be here, tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.

Allowing myself that time somehow, without her.

"Allowing" not even being the right word again. "Learn" to make time is more appropriate. I no longer know how to be without her, nor do I want to be.

I know this is just another journey I'm on in this new life of mine, but so far it is by far the hardest. Maire has been such a blessing in all ways. It seems the hardest part for me in being a new mom is, well, me.

me & my girl

Yesterday was Maire's 200th day. How is it going so fast?!

new haircut!

Six Months, 5 days

Dear Maire,

I'm a few days late again, I hope you'll forgive me. It seems now I hate to do anything but squeeze very moment with you, and even writing this letter takes a back seat to our games of "head, shoulders, knees and toes" and peek-a-boo. So I'm up now, at 5 am to get this in - I truly wouldn't have it any other way.



You've been sick this last month. It's a cold it seems you just can't shake, but true to form, you have been smiling through your tears. It seems nothing can damped your spirit. I feel like it's my responsibility to to make sure that's always the case. I know the world will bring us a lot harder things to deal with than a cough and runny nose, but I'm determined to conquer them all. I think, together, you and I can do just about anything, honestly.

And that's the feeling I have now. That it's you and I. You're such your own person now. You're a spitfire, that's for sure. And as weird as it is to say out loud, one of my best friends. I feel like we've just met (and, well we have) and yet, you've always been here. I forget what it was like before you. Before I woke every morning with a smile. Before I laughed every night while dancing. There were days before all this, I know it, but they've slipped away. Their stresses and worries and joys all fade in comparison to what life is like now.


It's just 6 months, but it might as well have been a lifetime.

Every thing means more to me now. Every decision I make carries more weight, every smile contains more joy. My whole world is better because of you. It's harder too, of course. I'm exhausted all the time now. I run behind the lists of "do's" like a dog behind a speeding car. But it's okay. It's all okay.

You can say "mama." You giggle sometimes for no reason. You have this smile, when you're really happy where you open your mouth so big it looks like your about to laugh, but the sound is just too much. Your eyes crinkle up to little half-moons when you're pleased with something. You sing with me as we walk home down the street... you give me so many reasons to keep going. To be happy myself.



And as much as I hate that you're in daycare, you seem to be enjoying it. I still cry every day I leave you, walking to the train. But they care well for you there and you're making friends. Of course you're making friends. Miss Rochelle tells all about what you do every day when I arrive after work, and it's been fun to hear about you from someone else. It's like this golden slice of perspective. She confirms every thing we already know - that you're empathetic. You hate to hear the other babies cry. You're sociable, you won't go into the "quiet room" to sleep, but have to be out where you can see people. And you're anxious to be "bigger." You love going into the toddler room to watch them, to play with them.

I know you can see what's coming, and you can't wait to get there. I see the sparkle in your eyes when you manage a step or two, or when you make some little sound I interpret correctly. You're so ready to grow bigger, be stronger - be older, somehow.


And as much as I love watching you conquer every little step. As much as I love seeing you strive constantly for what you want (oh, how I love your determination!) I am still looking for the "pause" button every once in a while. These days with you, this time you and I share, are only getting shorter. They're only getting more rare. I know the days to come will only get better, of course. But sometimes, when you're cuddled up in my arms talking to me in your sleep I think - "this. this is what heaven is. this is perfection." All my cares drop away, all the work not-yet-done, all the money not yet saved. It all goes away.

And there's just you and me and the afternoon. There's no where or when I'd rather be.

I love you, Sweetums. Your giant toothless smile, your already laid-back attitude. I love every single ounce of you.

Thank you, my darling daughter, for loving me.
Your mama

Grub'n!

First solid food!!!! Homemade rice cereal.

First spoonfull!

YUM!

Eating is fun

Big girl spoon

When's dessert!

Love - 'cause Emily asked me to

1. I love my lil family. We're a little crazy, a little unorthodox and a lot attached at the hip. I wouldn't change a thing.

2. I love my home. Oh sure. It's crazy small. We have two adults, a child on the verge of becoming mobile, one fish and a cat and yet it seems weirdly perfect for all of us to be in this 300 square foot space together.

3. I love wearing rings on my fingers. None of my old ones fit anymore, really, and I miss having hands-full.

4. I love freshly-washed sheets.

5. I love new clothes, new haircuts, new shoes - anything that changes my appearance a bit and makes me feel new. This explains why I dye my hair every month or so.

6. I love a good book. Interesting, intricate - not too heavy. I haven't read a book in over six months - the longest I've gone in 25 years at least. I miss it.

7. I love riding in a car singing to music, watching the scenery fly by.

8. I love love love vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. Throw in a brownie and I'm in heaven.

9. I love the sound of the ocean, the smell of orange blossoms and the feel of sand 'neath my feet.

10. Have I mentioned my lil fam? Because LORDY. My heart is full.

Me & My Girl

I don't know how we got so lucky. She's the best baby girl ever. I never tire of her, never just want to get away. Never want to just put her down, honestly. We play all day. Even when she's sick, she's full of smiles. I've been really fighting sadness lately, but with her nearby - it can never overtake me. She's teaching me about what's important.

I think I'll always remember New York City as the place where all my dreams came true. And where every day was worth being this excited about. And where her daddy and I yelled "no! sleep! til! brooklyn!" more than we ever thought we could. I'm pretty sure that's what she's yelling here ...

But most of all, I'll remember it for feeling loved. For finding love. For being in love. For finding a way to teach love. Every Tuesday morning breaks my heart. I sort of forget I'm leaving until the alarm goes off. Then I remember, and I pray for her.

Every morning I leave I pray for her.

All those places with power. From the mountains to the sea, across and around our earth - from all the places I've touched and have touched me. I pray their power will protect her. That somehow I can leave those pieces of me behind to keep her safe. To tie her to me. I drum them up from my very center.

And then I kiss her palm.

I don't know if it works, but I do know as I shut the door behind me, I leave unwhole.

new white house homepage

god, i love the internet.

Update

We're surviving.

This is week three. So good luck, perhaps.

I'm dyng a bit every tiem I say goodbye to her, but she seems to be adapting. Keep your fingers crossed for more progress (at least for her) this week.

I Hate my Phone.

Leaving her is hard enough. Knowing I cannot at all times be available to her? Enrages me like little else.

So, for those who would try to reach me and worry if I don't pick up, fret not. I'm just busy lamenting my lack of communication apparatus and writing nasty emails to Palm in my head ....

I dont know how to put words to this.

This ache I have. The feeling of being totally empty inside. Or rather, is it possible? - making myself empty inside so I can somehow put one foot in front of the other. Somehow get on the train, walk the sidewalks, sit at this desk. Read, examine, contemplate.

I do not know how to breathe without listening for her breath. I do not know how to constantly be aware of her. How to not constantly be ready to reach for her. My stomach is in knots, for the worry of her. I'm sick all the time now. I have a headache that won't go away. Stupidly, leaving her makes me think a part of me should hurt like that. It's almost a relief. Thinking "my head hurts" instead of constantly dwelling on my heart.

Can people tell when they see me? Can they sense the sadness? Do they know I am constantly on the verge of tears? It doesn't matter, I guess, either way. But I want them to know. I am greater than what you see right now. There's a little girl who loves me! And, even, please don't waste my time. I've give up my most precious moments to be here. In this place. Away.

I cannot think. I imagine this is torture somewhere, in some long ago foreign place. Where they force you to leave your heart behind. I know people do this every day. I have friends that manage. But for some reason I cannot manage. I am not strong enough. Not brave enough.

I have to just decide this is what I'm doing. Commit to it, somehow. But so far that hasn't been possible. So far I've just resigned. Resigned to being incomplete.

Perhaps it does get better.

All I know, though, this instant is I won't be better until I can see her. See her happy and safe. Hold her this afternoon.

We Made It

I'd write more, but I'm busy playing on the floor with my favorite girl in the world. We survived this week.


I'm proud of both of us.

We dropped her off this morning.

She's been there an hour or so now. I successfully didn't sob until we got in the hallway. I didn't want her to see me cry, I didn't want to give her reason to be scared. But when I turned around for one last peek through the glass before we left, well. I mean these last few weeks she's seemed so big. But there in some strange woman's arms in that new, foreign room she's never looked smaller.

Sam went to work. I went to the gym.

And here's why I'm really blogging as I'm sure you're sick to death of my whining.

No one warned me. No one told me I'd never feel so at home, so beautiful in my body as I did when I was pregnant. I had faith in it like I never had. I trusted my body to take care of me and the babe and it came through with shining colors. Even in those weeks right after. I felt good. I dont' think I have ever felt so good. I felt like I could do anything I put my mind to. That my body, and I, were limitless in power and possibility.

And now I'm here. In this place that feels dangerously close to where I was before all that - and I don't want to be there. I want to cultivate that feeling of strength and health and beauty in my "regular" life. In my "regular" self and body.

And Sam needs time to himself with Maire.

So I'm starting to make concerted efforts. Today I went to the gym. My goal is twice a week. Never on days I work. But on days I have Maire all day. It feels I'm missing less then. Days when I leave it will be Sam holding her. It feels safer then.

And I'm getting up at ungodly hours to pump anyway, so I'll do some yoga once a week too. Twice if I'm feeling ambitious.

So there you go. I'm unhappy. That's no secret. But I'm taking steps to combat that. It's not just about weight, it's about stress, anxiety and sense of self. This is just the first half.

I want Maire to have a Mommy she can be proud of and who shows her good ways to live. That's truly my resolution.

So in an effort to make myself accountable, and just be brutally honest (with you as well, mostly, for myself) here we go.

Step one. Day one.

Stats: 177.2 lbs./ 5'8"/27.4 BMI
Treadmill: 20 minutes 3min walk/1 min run

It's not much but there it is. I want to feel beautiful and strong again. I want to be happy for my girl. It's not fair to rest all my happiness on her. It's easy, but just not fair.

It's so easy. But so not fair.

How Do I leave My Heart Behind?

These last few weeks have ben brutal for me. I know not every one feels as crazy as I do about all this, and I know some people go back to work full-time right away.

But somehow I've been lucky enough to get to wait five months, and and I find myself in the week and just heart broken. I feel like my heart may come out of my chest when I think of that moment I turn around and walk out the door with her still inside. I have nightmares about what could happen when I'm not there. I can't sleep for them. Then I finally do fall asleep and she makes some adorable coo and I end up staying awake another hour just watching her. Relishing her. Wishing for more time.

But the thing is, there isn't any more time. These months are flying by and will only continue to. Whether I'm home or at work, there will never be enough. Do I wish (more than anything I have ever wished for in my life) that I could stay home? Yes.

Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.

But I can't. I can't because I want her to have a home someday. One where we can paint the walls and she has a swing in the backyard. I want her to go to college anywhere she chooses. For theater, for art. To be a chef, a doctor, a classical pianist. Anything. I want to take her to China for her 8th birthday. Ireland for Solstice. Paris in the Spring. I want to show her the world.

And, well, that kind of stuff has a price. And I won't pretend I haven't said out loud none of it matters. Not if I could wake up every morning to her smile and spend every minute of my day playing with her, singing to her, holding her.



But, as much as it hurts me to say, that's not what's best. For her or me. What's best for now is me going to work so I can give her the world. And her going to meet other babies. Having adventures of her own.

And I can live with that - I think. (We'll soon find out.)

But I am only willing to try to live with that 20 hours a week.

Because I love her too much. I need her as much as she needs me right now. And I'm okay with saying that out loud. It's true. And I'm sure it will change and grow - our relationship will over these next years; in this next lifetime ahead of us.

But right now, I just need her to know I love her more than anything else in this world. I need her so desperately to know that. Because I know she loves me. And I'm the luckiest girl in the world for it.

I just want to do good by her.

She so deserves nothing less.

Daddy's Bruiser

Current most oft' used nickname: "Sluggo"

Christmas!

Here are some photos of Maire opening her gifts Christmas morning. She thoroughly enjoyed the wrapping paper. :)

Her first Christmas morning gift: "To Think I Saw It All On Mulberry Street" from Grandma and Grandpa Stiers.

I love this. Sam called her name and she's totally ready to hear what he's going to say to her.

Me, opening my gift from Sam. (Lovely and perfect as always. The gift, not me, of course.)

Maire waiting for her gift from Santa to be released from the packaging. (A teether/toy butterfly her Daddy picked out special for her.)

How every kid ends Christmas morning, right?

Showing off her Christmas morning romper I got her.

Our first Christmas morning together.