7/01/2015

Stillness.

As my hands rest lazily on my laptop keyboard I look to my right to see the prickly flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelids of my husband. I hear deep breaths and the gentle whirring of wind from the fan. As I shift my gaze around the room I see the lace curtains of our open bedroom window dancing in the gentle breeze of a passing thunderstorm. Olivia's little body, just like daddy, slowly rises and falls as the stuffed smiling blue moon she loves so much dangles and twirls from her Olivia Owl Lamaze toy hanging next to her in her crib.
All is calm. All is quiet.

Stillness.

A chance for Mama to breathe deep, rejuvenate and recharge.

Oh, what a rarity these days. 

Earlier Olivia and I went for her routine Neonatal check-up at the hospital. NICU babies are required to meet with their Neonatal Pediatric Physician until they're a year old in order to ensure they're growing and developing correctly. Going up to the hospital alone still gives me weird anxiety, so I always make sure someone comes with me for these visits. Typically Carl joins me, but today was an earlier appointment which meant he stayed at work and instead my Mom accompanied Livie and I. Before the appointment we ate breakfast in the 'good cafeteria' on the 3rd floor of the hospital where, by the end of my 6 weeks of preggo bed rest I'd grown to obsess over their Belgian waffles with blueberries. My waffle today was just as good as I remembered during my pregnant food delusional state; and sitting in the cafeteria healthy again rather than sick and afraid was good for my soul. It's amazing how much healing can come from the simplest of things. Whoever said waffles were't miracles drenched in syrup?

In the Neonatal clinic Dr. White verified what we already know. That Olivia is healthy and happy and blowing raspberries every waking opportunity she gets. In 7 short months she's gone from 2 lbs 6 oz and 15 inches long to 13.5 lbs and 24 inches long. She's officially 5x bigger now than she was when she was born, and to this day it still strikes me as impossible she was ever that small. How true the saying is that the best presents come in tiny packages. Tiny loud packages that love to screech and chatter like a happy dolphin at 11pm. We talked about Livie's love of carrots, pears and avocado, the alarming smell and color of her poop since she started eating those things, and how impressive she is with her amazing fine motor skills. Olivia is a pro at pinching skin, holding on to any and everything with a death grip and pulling hair; just take it from me. She stands like a pro, hates to lay down and investigates her surroundings by shoving every single thing she sees in her mouth. Her determination, intelligence and perceptiveness continues to shock and impress everyone; and as a mother there's nothing more gratifying in life than to hear someone else appreciate your child's strengths the way that you do. 

And then, like the rumbling of the thunder in the distance moving closer, Olivia's whines - gentle at first - now grow fierce and angry. My quiet blog contemplation is over with a bang. She's awake. Rolling around and kicking the shit out of that little smiling blue moon she loves so much. If her cries were transformed into words I'm pretty sure they'd say something like "Get up, servants. I demand food and I demand it right now, dammit."  And in his groggy state Daddy is stumbling to her crib to scoop her up. With puffy eyes, flushed cheeks and rats-nest hair, the pair of them wander in the direction of the fridge where baby oatmeal mixed with breastmilk and pureed vegetables await her royal highness who demands food and demands it right now, dammit.

With the click of the bedroom door behind them all is calm. All is quiet.

Stillness.

A chance for Mama to breathe deep, rejuvenate and recharge.

Oh, what a rarity these days.