A letter to my 3 month old dollface

Dear Ginger,

You're 3 months old today! 3. Months. Old. You are so much a part of me, the fact that it's only been three months is beyond comprehension. I don't know where to start. I just know that if I don't tell you how these three months have been, I'll forget and later when you do something that warrants a lecture- I want us both to remember what we went through together. So I can use it against you. No I don't mean that. Yes, I do. But before I begin, let me say this, you are a good baby. Thank goodness.

The first two weeks were incredible. Which I hear is an anomaly. I was in absolute Heaven; I have never been happier and don't know if I'll reach that point again. It was mostly because you were so sweet and angelic and I think someone slipped something into the gallons of diet coke I was drinking. Where is that someone now? By the way, I switched to caffeine free diet coke in hopes that you'd sleep better. You're welcome. Those two weeks I was so possessive of you. Your dad would want to hold you and I would begrudgingly hand you over and look at him like I was doing him a favor. I remember once being at Grammy's house (which by the way if we are around Grammy and Popi and your aunties- I don't see you for hours because you are being passed around and obsessed over). Now, that warms my heart, but at the time I remember having a full on anxiety attack. I wanted you in my arms so bad I literally was struggling to breathe. Your Dad was sitting next to me talking me through it. When we left, I cried and I could see the utter confusion in Daddy's eyes. But it was just so overwhelming. You were mine. I pushed you out of me. My blood was yours, same DNA blueprint, my boobs were your sole source of nourishment, you were alive because of me.

Then literally at the two week mark, the lack of sleep, the constant "giving of myself", the new emotions that were introduced the moment you looked into my eyes; all caught up with me. I was a walking zombie, unable to put my clothes on correctly (there were many a time I almost walked out the door with my shirt inside out), unable to form complete sentences or find the right words. For instance exterminator became terminator, wipes became "those wet things". I could go on and on with my verbal idiocy. You were waking up every few hours to be fed. And I never napped during the day, so the sleep deprivation, oh the deprivation! It makes you crazy. One night you woke up at 1 and didn't go back to sleep until 5. That was the night I punched your father in the back. He had a daddy slip up. I don't want to mislead you, although by the time you can read this you will already know- he is incredible and I am quite sure you will be a daddy's girl and adore him more than life.

Then at six weeks, we did what I thought I would never do. I switched you to formula and I did the thing I judged other parents for; we put your cradle in the bathroom, turned off the light and shut the door. And you know what, you slept all night long. All. Night. Long. You are quite the sleeper still; you sleep 12 hours a night and take 3 hour naps. What a gift. I am convinced Heavenly Father is aware of my emotional limitations and so he sent me a baby that loves sleep as much as I do.

And yet, still, motherhood is hard. Hard in a way that I could have never imagined. Sometimes I pace back and forth and you still cry and cry so I put you in your swing and shut the door. And then I cry. I cry and convince myself Im a terrible mother. Then I call Casey and he tries to convince me Im not a bad mom, I am a great mom. Then I call my mom, who attempts to do the same thing. And then I pray. I just wonder why my pacing is so limited before I break, I know moms that pace all day long and rock all night long, but I cant do it. But your Nana, I don't know what or how she does it but she can calm you down in seconds. At first it broke my heart that I couldn't do that for you, now I happily hand you over. So you definitely have your moments and I can attest your lungs are strong. But it always seems when I need it the most I see your angelic face and you smile that smile of yours that melts my heart and life is beautiful again. A Beautiful Mess.

You are cooing now and are so expressive, we ask you how your day was or how you slept and you try with all your might to have a conversation with us and we LOVE it! And your legs and arms they are so long and strong and they flail like crazy. One time you knocked me in the nose and I gently explained to you how much my nose cost and you haven't done it since. I am convinced you'll be an athlete. And I cant forget the stretching, we laugh every time, you stretch with everything you have. And when I kiss your delicious feet you curl your long toes around my top lip- which by the time your sixteen and reading this you'll probably think that's weird but I love it. You have been spending a lot of time with Grammy, I have never seen her so in love, She loves your feet too, Sometimes so much I think she'll eat you.

I hope you have your daddy's sweet disposition. I hope you are loving and kind and smart and strong . I hope so much for you but I'll save that for another letter.

For now, Ill just say this; my life will never be the same since you have entered into it. And I wouldn't ever want it to. And to quote Heather Armstrong, " By choosing to bring you into our family I have made an irreversible commitment, and the joy of the love I feel for you is as meaningful as it is because the loss of it would break my body in two." I love you Ginger more than I can even comprehend.

Love,

Mama

Thanks to Corrine for taking the picture and for course for my love Amber who worked her magic on the announcement.