17 4 / 2014
A mop of hair
Ten tiny fingers
Ten tinier toes
A button nose
(Except when crying)
A wrinkled-face smile
The softest coos
The most ear-piercing cries
Ten pounds of baby
Six weeks of tired joy
A whole lot of love
04 4 / 2014
29 3 / 2014
28 3 / 2014
24 3 / 2014
23 3 / 2014
22 3 / 2014
I’m sorry I yelled at you today. I’m sorry I made you cry. I’m sorry for not being the mother I try very hard to be.
That I’m tired/sleep-deprived from taking care of your smallest sister is not an excuse. That I’m struggling with the baby blues is not either.
I’m sorry our routines — the ones that took years to perfect — have not been followed. I miss spending wind-down time with you, because that’s when you tell me about your day. It’s those times when I remember how little you are and how new this world is to you.
I’m sorry I lose my temper too quickly a lot of the time. I’m sorry I’ve mostly been seeing the wrong that you do, and forget to smile and give you hugs. I’m sorry for yelling. And I’m even more sorry for making you feel ignored.
My heart broke when Big Ate said, “Mama, I remember you said that you won’t be able to spend so much time with me anymore when the baby is born. But will we ever spend time together?”
I’m new at being a mother of three, and I am overwhelmed by it. But it shouldn’t affect you.
Bear with me, my girls, and I will do better. I will figure this out.
I will listen with much more attentiveness. I will hug you longer and tighter. I will watch out for milestones you achieve and be happy with you when you reach them.
I will be your Mama, because that is my job.
And because I love you.
12 3 / 2014
The house is still and everyone has left for work or school. I hold you by the crook of my arm and you sleep peacefully.
You stir a little, sometimes face wrinkling into a half-cry, sometimes giggling at something only your angels would know.
An hour turns to two and I do not get tired of watching you sleep.
Despite hours of looking, observing, tracing the contours of your face, your your fingers, your toes, I find that I haven’t memorized how you look. I only know how you feel, in my arms, cuddled into a warm ball.
Sometimes it gets lonely, these mornings of just you and me.
But I remember that it IS you AND I, together. These mornings of just us two will forever be ours.
You will have no memory of how it is to be alone with me, but I will remember and I will smile every time I do.