four months

Dear Eleanor Jane,

You turned four months old on Easter Sunday.  You are now closer to five months old than four, but oh well, that's just life right now.  You're turning into such a little person.  Your eyes are the most beautiful cornflower blue, and they light up and sparkle when you smile.  You delight everyone around you, and you're just generally darling all-around.

As much as you have enchanted your daddy and me, I still have a hard time believing that I'm your mother.  Not that it's you, I would have a hard time believing I was anyone's mother.  I don't know why, but I just can't shake this feeling that I'm faking it.  That one day, someone is going to show up at our door and announce the fun's over, it's time for Ellie to go to a real mama.  It's just that moms are so...together.  So smart and responsible.  And I?  I am about 16.  I like to sleep in until 10.  I never turn my socks right-side-out.  I don't finish things. Frequently.  I still dream of being famous.  I want to eat cookies for breakfast. Every day.  I can't, for the life of me, keep the kitchen full of food.  No joke, I can leave the grocery store with a carload of groceries and return home to find there is nothing for dinner.  How is this even possible?

It's only been in the last month that I've come to terms, a bit, with all of this. Maybe that's why this month has flown by.  Because I'm working to embrace my imperfection.  Maybe even find joy in the freedom of it.  Because I've learned that an afternoon of snuggles and smiles is worth far more than a clean house. Long story short, I have no clue as to what I'm doing.  And, Ellie, I love you for not caring.  You don't care if the laundry is done, or the house is clean, or if we're eating pasta, again.  Thank you, my little one, for helping me see that I'm not perfect, but I am, indeed, blessed.

on being apart...

This weekend, David and I went out for a real date.  Offered free tickets to the Frankfurt Skyliners and  having friends willing to watch Ellie, we knew there was no excuse to not make it happen.  I'm afraid to admit this was only our second time away from Ellie.  The first time was a few weeks ago while my mom was in town.  We went out to dinner, talked about Ellie 95 percent of the time, scarfed down some Lebanese and hurried back in two hours.  This is not because I'm afraid of leaving her; my dear friend Tammy has offered many times to watch her. There are only a few people on the planet I trust to watch Ellie, and Tammy is right up at the top of that list.  No, the real reason we haven't been out is that I just like being with Ellie.

So anyway, this weekend Ellie went to Tammy's, and we went to a basketball game.  Think LA Lakers only far more cheesy.  And in German.  Got that picture in your head?  It's okay to laugh, I did.  But we had a really fun time together.  I did quite well not worrying about Ellie until we got to our car, and proceeded to wait 30 minutes to get out of the parking lot.  There is nothing more annoying then usually efficient Germans being completely inefficient.  By the time we arrived on the Siedlung, it took every ounce of strength in me to wait for David to park the car before tearing off my seatbelt and running for Tammy's.

When I got there, Ellie was quite content and gave me a little smile.  But Tammy reported that the moment David and I had left, Ellie's little bottom lip popped out and began quivering, leading to all-out wailing for a bit.  My heart just broke for the girl.  Usually, Ellie will go to anyone who wants to hold her.  She's a total charmer.  I figured I was just the lady with the breastmilk, not to be lost for fear of starvation.  Come to find out I mean a bit more to her.  And as I carried Ellie back to our house, I couldn't help but smile... glad I'm not the only one who doesn't want to be apart.

being someone's mama

Pregnancy is the ultimate act of letting go.  Nothing is yours anymore.  It takes you over - mind, spirit and body.  And you believe when your baby arrives, you will go back to who you were before.  It is only once the blur of the first few weeks has given way to a bit of clarity, and you have a moment to think, that you realize you aren't you anymore.  And you look back and realize that you crossed a one-way bridge, and you are standing on a different shore.  You are here now.  You will never be there again.  This new patch of earth is beautiful, but oh so different from where you came.  Your sweet baby will never know who you were before she was here.  To her, you will always be the woman on this shore.

It's bittersweet - this new journey of being someone's mama.