Jim and I are both avid writers. We scribble notes in our Field Notes or Best Made notebooks. I was writing one of these normal passages, which of late have been my venting source when I am at my breaking point. I started to think some day Porter will probably find these journals in a box in the attic. What would he think when he read the entries from the last few months? Would I edit what I wrote in anticipation of him some day finding these? Then I thought, what would I tell Porter about the first 4 months of his life.
Porter-
The day that I met you I expected to hold you for hours and take you home that night. Instead you were whisked away to the hospital and I didn't get to hold you for a few days. You looked so helpless with all those tubes and wires on you. When we would tell people your name they would tell us that it was such a strong name and I knew it was the name meant for you. I didn't have to worry about you because you were a fighter. You healed better and quicker than they thought you would.
The first night we brought you home, I woke up at your first cry. You didn't always have to eat but you always needed a cuddle. You missed us and we missed you. We spent a lot of time trying to figure out what your every cry meant. You loved to cry in the evening and we quickly realized that your witching hour was as soon as your daddy walked through the door. The first few weeks we did nothing but pace with you around the house wondering why you wouldn't just go to sleep.
In this whirlwind of your first month, I forgot what it was like to drink hot coffee, what it was like to eat a meal when I was hungry, and what it was like to have a conversation with your father. No matter how much I prepared for you I didn't realize the selflessness necessary to take care of a little baby.
There were nights when I had to text or call people to tell me that it was okay to step away and leave you crying for a few minutes. There were nights when I would sit and cry with you crying in my arms. There were nights that I had to call Daddy into the room so that he could try to get you to bed. For a while it seemed like the middle of the night was your favorite time to be up, just staring at the ceiling lamp. In the morning when you were ready for the day to begin, you would meet me with a smile. It was always the thing that made me think, maybe today will be better.
Sometimes the days felt even longer than the nights. You would spend most of the day yelling at me. Pooping, puking and spitting up on me. You would fight me to take naps and for about a month there you would only fall asleep if I was doing lunges, squats or some kind of silly dance. I would get so upset. Then I realized that every day you were yelling at me, it meant that you were learning something new. At first it was hard for you to just stay awake for more than a half hour but before I knew it you were lifting your head on your own, rolling from your tummy to back, rolling both ways, talking, learning to army crawl. Every time I felt like this was the day that break me you would conquer the world again.
Once you started teething, it seemed like every day was a guessing game on how your mood would be. Usually it was somewhere between upset and hysterical. I would tip toe around you like if I made a wrong move you would let out a gigantic wail. The guessing game was one of my favorites. I would start with taking off your clothes, move to burping, changing your diaper, change of toys, teething tablets, gas drops, gripe water, nap, until the decision was made that today you just felt like crying.
One time I ate cabbage. The next day was not either of our favorite day. There were many days when I would count down the hours until your Daddy got home from work. Not that I thought he would have a magic solution but rather both of us needed a break from each other. We would slip off your clothes and put you in the bathtub. As soon as you were in the bathroom you would calm down. There was something magically about the water to you. You would willing spend a half an hour kicking your legs in the water. Once you were dressed and ready for bed Daddy and I would sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle' to you, even if you were crying, you would instantly stop and smile at us.
Putting you to bed was always my favorite part of the night. Not because I was glad to be rid of you but because you would sweetly nurse yourself to sleep. It was my nightly reminder that if I felt like I had failed the rest of the day, you still needed me. After you'd been asleep awhile I snuck into your room. There I would find you swaddled in bed with your two best buds, arms in the air in surrender, as though to say "I have exhausted myself today. I give in to the calm of this night." Thankfully, once you were about three months old, you realized that everyone had a better night if you just got up to eat once or twice and then went straight to bed.
Baby Porter, the truth is that over the last 4 months I haven't felt like a very good Mommy. I haven't felt like a very good wife. I have felt like your crying was my fault. I have felt like if I could read you better we would all be more comfortable. I don't have a big life here in Spokane and that makes me feel like all my energy can go to making your life the best it possibly can be. I'm not sure if I'm doing that every day. One night when we were visiting Buffalo, your Grammy was sure to tell me that I was doing a good job. She said that I was loving and protecting and trying to figure out the best ways to do things. I think it took her telling me that for me to truly understand that every day doesn't have to be perfect in order for it to be a good day. I don't have to be perfect to be a good parent. It's okay if I need to leave and go get a coffee so that I have 20 minutes to myself.
What I can tell you baby Port, is that every day your little smile steals my breath. Some days your giggles are rare but the days that I do get them, it feels like a piece of my heart that has been empty is getting filled. I find being your Mommy the most difficult thing I have ever tried to do, and at times I don't love it, but at all times I love you and find your life to be the most fulfilling thing I have ever been a part of.
I will love you to the moon and back, little one.
Mommy
