Hello, darling baby.
Hello, perfection.
Hello, to Olivia's first nap in the bassinet, fresh from the hospital.
Week 1: it was blissful, heavenly, and fast.
Upon coming home, Ryan and I both felt that we wanted to detach from the world a bit to maintain the sweet feelings that we had with Olivia's arrival. We so badly wanted to make our first days as a family together just ours. Yes, we did have wonderful family members in and out and all about, but as far as sharing our first week with the social media world goes...there was so little of it. And, call me selfish, but I didn't mind one bit.
Olivia's perfection definitely made up most of the peaceful feelings we had that week, but we had another angel in our midst during those days: my mother.
I loved this part about the transition to motherhood that I experienced both in that first week and in the days since: when my own angel mother came to be with us, I re-learned what it was like to be her daughter all over again.
My dear mom loved me as much as I loved Olivia in those moments of becoming a nurturer. She stopped my tears of ignorance by teaching me how to care for our a small baby. She stayed awake with me at night as Olivia nursed, and we talked talked talked about all that is good in life.
She cooked for us, she cleaned for us, she cared for us. She looked at our little apartment and, waving her magic wand, she reorganized my kitchen and made the whole apartment sparkling clean. She bought us salmon and quiona. She told me every day, "You were born for such a time as this! So stop the stress - it'll do stuff to your milk supply." She greeted each day by opening the front curtains singing, "Good morning Pro-vo, Utah!" to the tune of Hairspray's "Good Morning Baltimore," and I still hear her voice echo around the room when I glance at that window.
She was a breath of fresh air in every way, and I missed her terribly the very second she drove away from us. Tears upon tears fell even before she left as I thought about her comfort having to go...but! She calls me, and I call her, and still today, just hearing her voice causes heaven to return to my heart, and I remember this: I was born for such a time as this.
In the few days we had together, Mom gave me a crash course in Baby 101 - from bathing, to burping, to nursing - she was the perfect teacher and I love her. Enough said.
My dear mom loved me as much as I loved Olivia in those moments of becoming a nurturer. She stopped my tears of ignorance by teaching me how to care for our a small baby. She stayed awake with me at night as Olivia nursed, and we talked talked talked about all that is good in life.
She cooked for us, she cleaned for us, she cared for us. She looked at our little apartment and, waving her magic wand, she reorganized my kitchen and made the whole apartment sparkling clean. She bought us salmon and quiona. She told me every day, "You were born for such a time as this! So stop the stress - it'll do stuff to your milk supply." She greeted each day by opening the front curtains singing, "Good morning Pro-vo, Utah!" to the tune of Hairspray's "Good Morning Baltimore," and I still hear her voice echo around the room when I glance at that window.
She was a breath of fresh air in every way, and I missed her terribly the very second she drove away from us. Tears upon tears fell even before she left as I thought about her comfort having to go...but! She calls me, and I call her, and still today, just hearing her voice causes heaven to return to my heart, and I remember this: I was born for such a time as this.
In the few days we had together, Mom gave me a crash course in Baby 101 - from bathing, to burping, to nursing - she was the perfect teacher and I love her. Enough said.
Then my Grandma and Grandpa Burr came (sadly, to take my mother home), but for a moment we had the Queen of Babies herself in our home - Grandma Burr. My grandma is one of the most perfect women I know, especially when it comes to loving little babies. Oh and in loving us big babies - she brought me her homemade wheat bread (my favorite) with two jars of jam. Priceless.
Then there was Ryan that first week - totally clingy to his sweet babe - which, honestly, didn't change during weeks two, three, and four.
Ryan displayed his unique, undeterred desire to be close to Olivia in an unforgettable way one particular night. I was in the bathroom when I saw him tiptoeing with Olivia's bassinet mattress in hand, blankets cascading from its sides, en route to our bedroom. I didn't see, initially, that Olivia was also a top the mattress but when I realized what was going on...
"Ryan what are you doing??" His head shot to the side - he was a kid caught on Christmas morning sneaking presents.
"Um I just want to snuggle with her..."
'Okay,' I thought, 'you're cute and everything you do is perfect. I'm not even made about it.'
So with her mattress on ours, Olivia's father - oh so in love - curled up next to her and he sat, stared, and snuggled. Dream come true for that guy.
Before I could blink, Olivia was one week old, my mother had left, and the beautiful, hard work of nurturing that girl only increased in pace. Yes, by day seven I grasped that my duties as her mother were never going to find closure (a reality check that came with plenty of I'm-so-overwhelmed-I-might-die tears) but, truly...what a blessing it is to finally inherit this role of motherhood! My angel girl will always be with me, always and forever teaching me how to "be."
