independence and pacifiers vs. the thumb

Someone fell asleep while she was playing today. This has been happening often, lately... the whole "I'll do it myself" business. About an hour before this photo was taken, P was a real crab. I tried everything to soothe her: nursing, rocking, walking around, diaper change, even the paci. Nothing worked. So I put her down on the ground, on a blanket, under her wooden mobile toy thing. She rolled around, chewed on her strawberry rattle, "talked"to herself and within five minutes she was asleep. I noticed she was sucking her thumb. This has been a new thing. She sucks her thumb when she's upset and it usually puts her right to sleep. I'm not sure how I feel about the thumb-sucking. I sucked my thumb for way too long and ended up with teeth issues. We've tried to give P a paci but there are very few that she likes and now that's she's discovered her thumb, and that it's always attached to her and instantly accessible, I'm not sure if she'll choose the paci over her thumb. Some people seem really anti-pacifier. I don't really get that. Babies need to suckle...beyond the nipple (boob or bottle). I figure if not the thumb, it's the pacifier or vice versa. I'm just not sure which is worse...as far as eventually getting baby to stop.

the only thing you remember is your life

los nacimientos (births)

we will never have any memory of dying.
we were so patient
about our being,
noting down
numbers, days,
years and months,
hair, and the mouths we kiss,
and that moment of dying
we let pass without a note -
we leave it to others as memory,
or we leave it simply to water,
to water, to air, to time.
nor do we even keep
the memory of being born,
although to come into being was tumultuous and new;
and now you don’t remember a single detail
and haven’t kept even a trace
of your first light.
it’s well known that we are born.
it’s well known that in the room
or in the wood
or in the shelter in the fishermen’s quarter
or in the rustling canefields
there is a quite unusual silence,
a grave and wooden moment as
a woman prepares to give birth.
it’s well known that we were all born.
but if that abrupt translation
from not being to existing, to having hands,
to seeing, to having eyes,
to eating and weeping and overflowing
and loving and loving and suffering and suffering,
of that transition, that quivering
of an electric presence, raising up
one body more, like a living cup,
and of that woman left empty,
the mother who is left there in her blood
and her lacerated fullness,
and its end and its beginning, and disorder
tumbling the pulse, the floor, the covers
till everything comes together and adds
one knot more to the thread of life,
nothing, nothing remains in your memory
of the savage sea which summoned up a wave
and plucked a shrouded apple from the tree.
the only thing you remember is your life.

-pablo neruda

The First Of Many Firsts

For some time now Little P has been attempting to roll. While on her belly, she would kind of just teeter back and forth. She'd grunt and seem frustrated that she was stuck. Today, she rolled over for the first time! It was surprising. I was standing there watching her teeter and grunt and then all of a sudden, she rolled. I screeched "yaaaay!" and she kind of just stared at me looking shocked and confused. She did it again at least three other times. She rolled to the right and the left. Very exciting stuff.

Three Months

This weekend Piper turns three months old. Part of me can't believe that this much time is already behind us. The other part of me is reminding myself that she is still so new -- to us and to the world. There is so much of herself that she has yet to discover and we're still getting to know each other.

This picture (above) has already become a favorite of mine. It captures her goofiness perfectly. She is, for sure, half of me. 

This past month Piper's personality has really started to show itself. She is such a funny little lady. Lately, like two days ago, we noticed she has started to laugh. Real "ha ha ha" laughs. Earlier on, her laughs were more of a "haaaaaa! haaaaa!" burst of air. These laughs now are quick little gusts of "ha ha ha". Really cute. Really funny. Last night, she was wide awake and laughing when "bedtime" rolled around. As I read her (four!) stories, she was there beside me laughing away with no interest in closing her eyes. Eventually she fell asleep. 

As ridiculous as this sounds, I actually miss her when she's asleep. First thing in the morning has become my absolute favorite time of the day. Somehow, Piper and I usually wake up at the same time. I open my eyes, look over at her and she pops open her eyes. Then she smiles the biggest, gummiest smile and my heart explodes. I hope that every day for the rest of her babyhood starts that way.

Morning time also means "cuckoo" baby hour. This usually involves lots of squawking, "laughing" (those "ha ha" gusts), and wiggling around by Piper. There's a small red mark on the ceiling of our bedroom (left here by the previous tenant) that P laughs and stares at every morning. Kind of weird. 

Piper loves her daddy. When he holds her and she coo's, talks and laughs with and at him, I can only imagine what the future will be like for the three of us. I can tell he's going to be the "softie" and she'll never do wrong in his eyes. I'll end up being the disciplinarian jerk. Yeah, right. I actually fear ever having to instill any sort of discipline. When I see a little kid pull some crappy little kid move that makes parents cringe, I can't keep a straight face. And also, as bad of a person this will make me out to be, I laugh when toddlers/children take a tumble (pure evil, I am). I know this will all be different when it's my child wiping snots on the TV screen, or writing on the walls with markers, or eating shit down a flight of stairs...I'm in for a big reality check. 

Three months has changed so much. So much of my life changed the minute Piper was born and so much in me has changed since then. I'm realizing how selfish I was before she came into my life. She's helped me slow down and notice things, even especially the little things. 

Hands

Little P has discovered her hands. Throughout the day I catch her staring at them in awe. I keep telling her "those are your hands" and can't help but wonder what she'll do with those hands, of all that she'll create and all she will touch.

And as I wrote this, she did this:

Her very first reach and grab!

Remembering

I think I forgot a lot of what happened the days and day leading up to Piper's birth. Just now remembered listening to this song on repeat for hours and hours while in labor. This song is magical.

Go Back / {HOME}

My dear friend Rachel came to meet Piper in July. She asked if there was anything from the East coast I wanted her to bring me. I couldn't think of anything but later, jokingly, in my head, thought of asking her to bring me a little bit of the Atlantic. I never did ask her. 

The night she arrived, she pulled a jar filled with sand, saltwater and even some seaweed out of her suitcase. Without me telling, or asking, she knew what I missed most. Friendship is funny that way. 

Everytime I walk past this jar, I'm reminded of what I left behind when I moved to the West coast. My family, some of my dearest friends, many memories (good and bad) and so much of myself I left on the East coast. I, of course, miss the people but more and more each day I miss the place. 

I miss the smell, I miss the colors, I miss the seasons. I miss four o'clock on an October evening and the cool crisp air. I miss hot summer days fading into night. I miss the beach lit up by the moon. I miss fireflies and the sound of coyotes. I even miss snowstorms.

I know I need to go back. What is difficult is that I know how much this place means to Cameron and it would be asking a lot for him to leave. I love this place, too. We have made amazing friends in our time here. The Pacific Northwest has a lot to offer, too. We have access to the ocean, the mountains, the desert... leaving here will break both of our hearts a little bit. It's going to be hard to say goodbye, whenever that time comes. 

I need to go back to the East coast. If I don't, if we stay here (which wouldn't be hard), my heart will forever be aching and missing the place that I love. I don't want to live my life missing anyone or thing that could be a part of my living life. It's hard enough to miss those that have passed away or to try and deal with the "I-wish-I-had's". I also know that I want my daughter to grow up on the ocean. Most of my best memories as a child involve the sea or searching the beach for shells or some sea-creatures. I'd like her to have that. 

Ideally, my dream would be to drive across the country (*if* and) when we do move. There's so much of this land that I've never seen. It makes me feel good to have some sort of adventure to look forward to...even if nothing is set in stone quite yet. 

With everything I just wrote, I think I need to address the word H O M E and what it means to me. 

In so many ways, the meaning of 'home' was redefined for me around the age of fifteen. Under different rooftops shared with different people, my idea of home was ever-changing. Up until now, I never quite knew where to consider 'home'. Having a family of my own now, I've come to understand that 'home' isn't necessarily a place or anything you could physically touch, even. Home for me is a feeling...nothing I could even explain, really. It's a feeling that lets you know that everything is just as it should be and that everything is alright. It's a feeling that makes you feel safe and fills you with love. 

And luckily, you can take it, or make it, anywhere.

{HOME}:

Photo credit: Matt Pensworth