"The same as yesterday. This."
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Annemarie Colleen
On August 26th, 2013, at 11:41am, after less than a minute of pushing (after spending the night in the hospital for reasons no other than impatience, really), our family was forever changed with the addition of Annemarie Colleen. At 7lbs, 8.6oz and 20.5" long, her arrival was met with so much happiness, buzzing anticipation, lots of talking and laughter and easy-going-ness...and I'd like to think she brought that with her. She's incredible. I mean, really.
The first few days were a blur. The hospital was amazing (it always is), I managed to swing a suite and we had enough visitors to feel loved and enough quiet time to feel reasonably rested. I don't think I stopped smiling for days.
"Well, how about that?" Dr. Payne said, as she made her quick arrival. "It's a girl!"
And, that much, I sort of already figured. I can read an ultrasound.
But Adam didn't know, and his reaction was incredible. He straight-up Ugly Cried. He hung his head heavy on my shoulder and he cried big tears. Big, man-tears. "Thank you for wanting another baby," he said. Adam Walden had a daughter,
Now, personally, I'm a little weirded out by the "You finally got your girl!" or the "You can really be done now!" or the like because I have had three amazing boys, and I felt the same sort of immediate wash of in-lovedness that I felt with Annie. I'm sure it will be different raising a girl at the end of slew of boys. For now, though, it's about the same. It's equally wonderful. I wouldn't trade this for all of the world. I mean it.
She smells fantastic, she snuggles for days. She has the softest skin I have ever felt, and she can change my mood in mere seconds. She is perfection. Little, baby, newborn perfection. And she's ours.
At four weeks old, she was sleeping 6-7 hour stretches at night. She's growing quickly, 9lbs 2 oz (also at four weeks.) She smiles and giggles in her sleep and has two deep dimples, one on either cheek. She has a vivid awareness of her surroundings and is easily soothed by noise and commotion...which is good because we're heavy on that around here. Her brothers adore her, and are just now starting to get her name right. (For weeks, Patrick still called her Hermoine, Leo still prefers "Tango" and I swear Hatch actually thinks her name is "Baby Carla.")
At night, at the end of another commotion-filled day, I lay the boys down to bed and I pour myself a glass of wine. It's usually just the two of us, as we sit on the couch together and just look at each other. It's my favorite part of the day. Then, hours later, we go to bed uneventfully, and I dream of her. Not of her as an adult, but her as a baby--of Annie now, as if I can't get enough of her during daylight hours...which is mostly true. I can't get enough of her, period.
Annemarie Colleen is one loved, lucky girl. Always has been, always will be (and by a lot of hard-loving people, which is even better for her.)
She's going to be amazing. I just know it.
"Well, how about that?" Dr. Payne said, as she made her quick arrival. "It's a girl!"
And, that much, I sort of already figured. I can read an ultrasound.
But Adam didn't know, and his reaction was incredible. He straight-up Ugly Cried. He hung his head heavy on my shoulder and he cried big tears. Big, man-tears. "Thank you for wanting another baby," he said. Adam Walden had a daughter,
Now, personally, I'm a little weirded out by the "You finally got your girl!" or the "You can really be done now!" or the like because I have had three amazing boys, and I felt the same sort of immediate wash of in-lovedness that I felt with Annie. I'm sure it will be different raising a girl at the end of slew of boys. For now, though, it's about the same. It's equally wonderful. I wouldn't trade this for all of the world. I mean it.
She smells fantastic, she snuggles for days. She has the softest skin I have ever felt, and she can change my mood in mere seconds. She is perfection. Little, baby, newborn perfection. And she's ours.
At four weeks old, she was sleeping 6-7 hour stretches at night. She's growing quickly, 9lbs 2 oz (also at four weeks.) She smiles and giggles in her sleep and has two deep dimples, one on either cheek. She has a vivid awareness of her surroundings and is easily soothed by noise and commotion...which is good because we're heavy on that around here. Her brothers adore her, and are just now starting to get her name right. (For weeks, Patrick still called her Hermoine, Leo still prefers "Tango" and I swear Hatch actually thinks her name is "Baby Carla.")
At night, at the end of another commotion-filled day, I lay the boys down to bed and I pour myself a glass of wine. It's usually just the two of us, as we sit on the couch together and just look at each other. It's my favorite part of the day. Then, hours later, we go to bed uneventfully, and I dream of her. Not of her as an adult, but her as a baby--of Annie now, as if I can't get enough of her during daylight hours...which is mostly true. I can't get enough of her, period. Annemarie Colleen is one loved, lucky girl. Always has been, always will be (and by a lot of hard-loving people, which is even better for her.)
She's going to be amazing. I just know it.
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