Smallness

When I was getting Lea dressed today, something a little sad happened: a very cute lavender onesie with a peanut printed on it, a staple of her wardrobe pretty much since birth, was undeniably too small. This came from a set (thanks, Jon Nicol!) marked "Size: Newborn." For some reason, this brand of clothes runs huge, because in other brands, she's been out of newborn sizes for quite a while. But we were hanging on. And now it is time to say goodbye, at long last, to the newborn stage.

Some things I never want to forget about Lea's life as a newborn...

... Brian changing virtually every diaper for the first week of her life. In particular, that very first sleep-deprived night when she was crying and crying and neither of us had yet thought to check her diaper-- we were so addled-- and when it finally occurred to him to check, her diaper was just a huge mess. And he said, mournfully, "Oh... I'm so sorry!! I'm such a bad dad!!" And I remember thinking to myself, "He's the greatest dad." It was a very special moment.

... Our first Thanksgiving. Lea was two days old. Brian was with her, and I decided to get on my feet and prepare the meal (read: reheat the food my parents had brought us). We thought we might actually get to eat at the table, and put Lea in her bouncy seat. She was fine with this for about 90 seconds. Just as we started to eat, she began to wail. We realized that she couldn't see us (that 12-inch limit to her eyesight and all), so we ended up sitting on the floor, using our chairs as individual tables, with our teeny little baby in between us.

... The Visitation Marathon that was Lea's fifth day of life. I believe over a dozen people came by that day. The highlight was, of course, Eric's comment that she was "radiating heat." In fact, what was radiating heat was Lea's pee. Which was soaking through and spreading across his lap.

... The intense emotions that came with breastfeeding. Every time she latched on during the earliest days, I remember feeling like she and I-- this tiny little creature and I, her mother-- could somehow know, together, all the secrets of the universe. This feeling would last for just a moment, but it was overwhelming. It was an ecstatic sadness. I can't think of another way to describe it. We had gotten a free issue of Parenting magazine, and one day I happened to glance at it during the first moments of a feeding. I was struck with the strangeness of such a magazine existing. All we need is this, right here, I thought. I cried a lot.

... An early outing to the mall. I had gone into a store to try some things on, leaving Brian with Lea in the stroller waiting out in the hallway. In the fitting room, I thought I heard a baby cry, but continued with my shopping. When I emerged, I found a beet-red, screaming, starving baby and a borderline weepy Brian. I came to find out that when she started to cry, a very well-meaning (and non-native-English-speaking) woman had approached Brian to insist that "Hungry. Bottle."--going so far as to pull an empty water bottle from the diaper bag and hand it to Brian. As far as I know, he didn't get so far as to pantomime breastfeeding.

... Our Christmas card photo shoot, most of which the star model slept through.

... Our first outing away from Lea, to the bank! and Starbucks!

... Those first smiles, usually accompanied by closed eyes. Then the first real social smiles around Christmastime, right along with the first non-crying vocalizing she did.

... Her magic pj's. These were a shower gift and one of the first things she wore frequently. They were green, and everytime she wore them she slept like a rock.

... Our first trip to the doctor. It was so immensely stressful, as she cried and cried while we waited, and we looked around at a room full of children and thought-- well at least I thought-- how sad it was to wake up from our dream-like first few days and realize that she wasn't the only baby in the universe.

... Lady Whippets games, and watching my mom show Lea off to her colleagues and some of the players and their moms.

... Going back to the Birth Center at 9 days old for a breastfeeding support group, and seeing my lovely and strong and wonderfully kind midwife, Gazelle, and exceptionally helpful nurse/lactation consultant Patti.

... The day Lea's tear ducts kicked in. Prior to that, crying=yelling. Then, when tears were first introduced into the equation... oh, my... the saddest thing you will ever see.

... My dad constantly remarking, with the certainty that he could probably prove it in court if he needed to, that "She's the best baby ever."

... The tiny little contented noises she makes as she's finishing a feeding, and I realize how safe and peaceful she must feel at my breast, her little body snuggled up to my squishy belly, letting me stroke her hair. In the beginning, when she was eating every 90 minutes or so, I would get impatient and pick her up as soon as she was done eating so we could go do other things or I could get a break. Now, I try to remind myself to relish that time and let her fade in and out of sleep and make those sweet little sighs. And I look at how much she has grown, and I marvel that every bit of nourishment she's every gotten has come from my body.

... The way she always sleeps with one hand next to her face.

... The insane amounts of toe jam. And finger jam. Where does this stuff come from?

... Biting her nails because she won't hold still to let me clip them.

... The Fray. "How to Save a Life" was always on the radio right before and after she was born. It will forever make me think of the days and weeks that my life and my world were changing so fundamentally. [OK, it also makes me think of that ad for the new season of Grey's Anatomy, the one where Izzie throws herself down on the floor in her prom dress. Also a very powerful memory.]

It is late, late, late at night and this didn't end up being the carefully revised, rearranged-for-style piece of poetry I wanted. There are also a million more things that I never want to forget... and right now, I feel like I already have to an extent.

OK, loved ones: tell me what you remember most about Lea's newborn days... or those of any baby in your life.