Dear Lyra,

Happy 1 month birthday!

You were born one month ago today. I never imagined how proud I would feel that we have survived our first month. Though “survival” seems to set an awfully low bar, it is the best description I have for the simple life we have been living. It has been both the longest and shortest month in my memory. Each day, punctuated by countless feedings and diaper changes, seems hardly differentiable from the last and yet you grow and change so quickly (a point of pride for me and my milk) that it seems ages ago when you were a slender coneheaded newborn.

This week you seem to be waking up to your world, a process that both excites and overwhelms you. You happily study the mobile above your changing table for many minutes, panting and wriggling with excitement. In fact that spot with the sound of a running hairdryer will usually distract you from fussing. You also love to gaze at our giant windows or up at the black framed posters above our bed. I like to imagine your little brain slowly making sense of it all.

You also want to be held all the time. With the extra arms of your grandma and grandpa it hasn’t been too bad. We take turns rocking and holding you and soaking up your sweetness. I’ve been letting you sleep face down on my chest for many hours of the night. I find your sweet milky breath and soft warm body deeply wonderful and I sleep surprizingly well like this. I think we both do. You wake only when it’s time to eat again and then slip back into sleep without much of a change in position. On good nights we can do all this (and diaper changes!) without waking your dad.

Three evenings in the past week, you fussed and cried and wailed for over three hours. You would be soothed for no more than a few minutes before getting fired up again. It’s been exhausting and deeply heartbreaking for me. I feel like I am wired to you and have fallen apart into tears during your most intense screaming. It is at these times that I am most grateful for your dad and his calm patient tenacity. He rocks and jiggles and hums and shushes without the slightest sign of frustration or wear. I listen to you cry as I mop up my own tears and feel struck by how lucky we are to have him. During these hours of fussing there is little he and I can do but wait it out and try to calm you as much as possible. And finally when it’s over you typically eat, then puke, then sleep. You look so sweet at that point that we hardly remember the misery of the previous hours and we all collapse in cozy exhaustion.

My favorite moments are when you lock eyes with me. It’s magical. I can’t help but grin ear to ear and think of nothing. The world stops spinning and my heart overflows. I never knew I could love someone so much.



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