Realizations

This week has been all about giving new things a shot. Baby B spent some time outside.  It was his first time being outside in the air and sun for more than the time it takes to get from the house to the car and from the car to whatever indoor place where we were headed.  He liked it, but it was windy so it did not last too long. I decided I cannot wait for spring, so he can play outside in the grass and immediately realized we need to reseed the lawn and get our lawnmower serviced.

We tried a new position for tummy time on the couch facing out. He tolerated it far longer than the floor method. He must like the view. So we also rotated his position when he lays on the couch.  He promptly rolled onto his side from his back which made me realize we have a whole basket of toys that he was not ready to play with a few weeks ago, but we might want to check and see what he might like now. 

The ball Grammie bought for him is a big hit.  It is large and geodesic in nature and he desperately tries to fit it in his mouth although it will not fit not one little bit.  The drums he got for Christmas from his aunt, uncle and cousins are also new and exciting.  They play music on their own. He cannot push down hard enough to make sounds but he waves his arms up and down as if to play them. His father does it and he is turning into a wonderful mimic. That made me realize he might like the monkey I bought him before he was born on the day we learned our baby was a boy. He did.  He likes it better when his daddy does a funny monkey voice.

Brenton also tried some assisted sitting.  We discovered he fits perfectly in the corner of the couch and is happy as a clam just relaxing.  Next we tried sitting in the highchair.  He really enjoys sitting up watching us eat our lunches. I think he appreciates being a part of the action. We gave him a purple and pink baby spoon on his tray to play with and he wanted to grab it, but showed no real interest in using it yet.  Thank goodness because mommy is so not ready for that transition. Then I realized soon we will need to get baby friendly bowls and spoons since certainly the one solitary purple and pink spoon we got for our niece when she was young will not suffice.

Whenever we try something new with baby B it seems to lead to some type of realization that a next step is coming. We must prepare, we must try, we must do or we must remember to prepare, try or do. I realize another thing.  The truth is I am never really prepared for the next steps at least not in the boy scout sense of preparedness. I just ride the wave of trying things out and feel the ups and downs.

This is not at all how I thought it would go, but again early on I understood I needed to soften.  I had to allow for uncertainty.  Baby B’s arrival brought balance to my life even in the upheaval of such a dramatic change in my existence. I realize life will never be the same and I realized I am glad it is not.

Measuring Time

My life is now quantified in a completely different manner now. During pregnancy I measured the time in weeks.  These weeks tracked the beginning of my baby’s existence. The first few days of his life were counted in my sleepless hours watching him sleep, then measured in weeks waiting for new milestones that those baby emails promised, and now finally at three months we begin to count months.

Today he is three months old.  He is now giggling, but still no belly laughs. Yesterday he made and L sound which was new and probably more exciting to me than it was to him. He also loves his hands very much. He could stare at them all day if they are not in his mouth.

It is all about baby B’s timeline in so many ways. First it is his daily routine primarily managed by my husband. When does he eat, when does he sleep and when does he play? It is all about his schedule in the moment trying to keep track of it all.  It was a group effort helping each other determine what works best. Ultimately Brenton decides.

In his first days of life Brenton was only wetting a diaper every twelve hours.  Those hours felt like an eternity because a baby is supposed to have wet diapers and if not something could be wrong.  Thankfully all was well and finally he went and went and has never stopped going regularly.  Even now if it has been too long since the last one a poopy diaper can make my whole day. It is truly surprising and gross, but very true. Another new truth is if he is content then all is right with the world.

Spending time watching him grow and develop is fundamentally fulfilling.  Me time became far less important.  Perhaps this shift occurs with all mothers. Perhaps I worry I will miss something. I count the minutes at the end of the workday until I can see his sweet face again. When he nurses at night, minutes feel like seconds as I enjoy our quiet time together.  Hours feel like minutes as I try to capture his perfect smile on film. And a minute feels like hours as I watch the look of wonder, excitement and sometimes even confusion on his face when he is presented with something new. Time is no longer linear.

Moments are so much more important now than they ever have been in the past. Time is so precious and it goes by so quickly.  After 9 months waiting for him to arrive and now after three months of his life, that is one full year. It was a glorious year. A year I rank as my best so far. A year I will never forget.  Still it went by in a flash.

Playdate

There is nothing quite like spending an afternoon with a great friend to make me feel more balanced. As a plus she has three children and the youngest is a boy only 6 months older than baby B and a girl Izzy who is two and a half. Alex is 8 and the oldest. She is the first child that I loved outside of my family.  Today was Brenton's first playdate with them.

Watching children observe each other is such a unique experience and the intrigue on their tiny faces is so clear.  Who is this new visitor and most important do I like him?  They stare at each other and we study the reactions.

Immediately Alex is doing anything to be near the baby.  She has been waiting for this day and I enjoy her excitement in meeting him. She makes faces and when he smiles she shouts, "He smiled. I made Brenton smile."  I understand her sentiment. When he smiles for me I feel that same childlike glee.

Izzy is eating her cereal and she sees him at first from a distance.  She is prepared as she has her younger brother.  She is accustomed to sharing attention and if needed she knows how to get what she wants.  Occasionally she points at the baby and says LoLo and BeBe.  She is figuring everything out. She quickly hugs the baby and then moves on to the interesting diaper bag I brought. It contains a hairbrush and she must have it. When her mother holds Brenton she reaches for me and I bring her into my lap.  Fair is fair apparently.

It is immediately clear that the boys will like each other. Baby B is big for his age and Logan is rough and tumble. It will be a good match. I see a future for these two to be sure. They are talking back and forth in baby language.  They exchange knowing smiles. Male bonding occurs.

Until today I did not closely watch children interact because I had no vested interest in the outcome. I felt something important was happening as my son was socializing with other tiny beings.  He was certainly curious.  I did not sense fear.  He was open to them.  He was at ease and so was I.

With each new experience he has I have a new one as well seeing things through the eyes of a mother now. I remind myself to keep track and take note because these firsts will only happen once. Today was another first, the first playdate.

Be my valentine

We have already had several first holidays with our son. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years Eve, and now it is Valentine's day. A commercialized holiday to be sure, but the central idea is important. At the heart of this day is tell those in your life how much you love them maybe even pick someone special to be your valentine. Really what could be better?

I remember as a child receiving a special gift from my parents each year.  When I reached school it was also cards from my classmates. From my boyfriend in high school who would later become my husband it was a single red rose, a card and perhaps even chocolates in a heart shaped box.

This year I returned to work on Valentine's day. It was my first day back from maternity leave and although I work from home usually I had to go into the office to have my access reestablished. Of all my Valentine's days passed it was by far the least romantic, but also the most loving.

When I arrived home my husband and son were waiting for me.  I did not get a card or flowers or even candy in a heart shaped box, but I did not need any of that.  I have everything I ever wanted and more and nothing can tell me I am loved more than the look in their eyes when I returned.

In the evening I fed my son and he fell asleep in my arms and I could smell that sweet baby smell he has. I whispered in his ear, "Be my Valentine?" He snuggled closer as if to answer yes mommy I will be your valentine. Next year he may even be able to say the word yes and the year after that he might even give me a red scribble paper and the following year something he made special for me in preschool and then a homemade construction paper heart that is perfectly imperfect. No matter how he decides to show me he loves me he will always be forever my sweet valentine!

Can you say oh?

My new favorite sound is the sound of my sons voice. When he vocalizes even small sounds it is music to my ears and if he adds his sweet smile it is enough to make me the happiest mommy in the whole wide world. When he stirs during a nap I cannot wait until he wakes so we can have one of our post nap conversations. In his baby voice it goes something like this.

"Hello there Baby B. Who needs his diapie changed? Is it you?" I ask.
"oh goo oh", he says.
"Can you say oh?"
"oh oooh oh"
Can you say mamamama?"
"oh"
"Can you say dadadadada?"
"goo oh goo", he shrieks.
"Tell me a story B," I plead.
"oh oh ooooh oh," he responds.

According to my mother these conversations are very important to his development and tells me that when I was young I had a large vocabulary because she had such conversations with me.  She was intent that I would speak at an early age.  I did and I never stopped talking.  My first word was fringy. When I was one I exclaimed, "Mommy I need a cookie." I know these things about myself because she told me and I enjoy hearing these tales of my infancy and her young motherhood.

I see myself in her and I always have and now that we share another bond as mothers that is stronger. I know now that even though I was unaware of her methods of child rearing that I follow in her footsteps in many ways. I wonder if it is intrinsic to my nature to do this because she did.

My husband has these same chats with our son in his own words in his own way. I wonder if someday our son will have these same exchanges with his children, our grandchildren. Will he know that we spoke to him in the same way with the same inflections and repetition anxiously awaiting his response? Will he feel the same anticipation? I know he will because in some way or another we all do this with our children because they are the most exciting and intriguing creatures in our worlds.

I look forward to all of our conversations in the future just like those we have now when he wakes from his nap. At some point I will tell him about his first word and his first sentence just as my mother did with me. I can only hope he cherishes them as much as I will.

Perfect imperfections

My son has two completely different ears. One is close to his head and very small and the other sticks out and is larger in every respect.  One curls around more at the top and comes to a point and one earlobe is distinctly fatter than the other.  It took me approximately eleven weeks to notice this and during that time I stared at him almost constantly.

To me this phenomenon is his first recognizable perfect imperfection.  I adore his mismatched ears as much as I adore every other part of him. I might be the only one to ever notice or it may be the first thing he is teased about on the playground. Either way this idiosyncrasy is his. I look forward to discovering these nuances throughout his life. These traits that make him uniquely himself. 

When he had his first cold I heard him sneeze like his father and before he cries he makes the same face as I do before I cry. I enjoy these similarities to both of us. I have questions about if he will throw left handed like I do or will he be a reader like his father; however, I also look forward to more characteristics that will differentiate him from us.

As his personality blooms like a flower revealing itself petal by petal folding open and outward to the world, I will get glimpses into his soul. Watching as he develops is astounding. Physical and emotional milestones have come and gone and so many remain.

I am now waiting to hear his first laugh. I know this moment will stop me in my tracks and burn into my brain as a forever memory. Until I get that laugh I will wait continuing to stare at him just as I have since the day he was born perhaps noticing more of my perfect little boy's perfect imperfections.



 

He could even be president

As the wife of a black man I have always known his existence is fundamentally different from mine because of the manner in which the world regards him. He has shared many things with me and I have observed them as well. I myself have occasionally been treated differently based on who I love.

I clearly remember the day Obama was elected president not just because it was a monumental step forward, but it was also personally relevant. There are so many different hopes and dreams you have for your children. The dreams begin long before birth and even before conception. Until that day no child of color could ever hear the words, "One day you could be president" and know it to be true.

Watching the speech I knew the world was changing for the better.  I shed tears of joy that night. New things were possible for me and for everyone. Most importantly for the first time in my life I actually thought about having a child and that shift forever changed me.

When I was pregnant I considered what my dream would be for my son.  Happiness of course, but this is a dream and a dream should be big and I remembered the night of the election and the enormity of how I felt in that moment. I thought about the day he will ask me what he should be when he grows up. I can earnestly look him in the eye and tell him he can be whatever he wants to be. He could even be president.

Baby B, so many nicknames

My husband and I met when we were kids and we didn't think about the names of our future children. As the years passed we began to contemplate baby names.  Some names I adored and when I presented them he vehemently vetoed all of them as I did with his selections. One day about two months prior to becoming pregnant I said, "What about Brenton for a boy?" To my surprise he said, "Yeah, I like Brenton." That was it, we had our boy's name.

I swore I would not resort to calling him anything other than Brenton and certainly not Brent. I love the name Brenton. I am sure I always will. Throughout pregnancy I called him Brenton from the time we were told it's a boy.

Fast forward to his birth. My perfect little boy arrived and I rarely call him Brenton. I have instead resorted to a plethora of nicknames established at different times for different reasons.

Here is the current list: Baby B, B(simple and often used by my husband), Beaner(my brother called me this as a child), Beanut or Beanut Peanut(often used by me during playtime), Banimal(his superhero name), B plus(his street name), B note(his blues name), Mini B, and finally...Smiling Tiny Man.

You will note that Brent is not on the list!