Journal Excerpt

I took this picture of E today, while she was lying in her crib staring up at the animal mobile rotating above. She has this look of total wonder and amazement on her face. I find the whole thing rather amusing, because it was probably about the hundredth time she’s seen the same five animals, and because they are actually quite ugly. Garishly bright colors, old and used, and one day I turned them up and discovered their faces are painted with clownishly artificial smiles. Yikes!

I’m getting a sense now that E’s tastes and mine definitely do not align. She does not care for tasteful pastels or artistic realism. She is visually addicted to anything with stripes. And the brighter, the better. Her total delight in the things she loves to see is a joy to behold. When she sees a Tiffany lamp, she laughs out loud to herself for minutes on end. My mom made her a poster covered with wrapping paper scraps and she cannot tear her eyes from it. It’s like visual heroin.

But I love this about her. I love that I’m seeing the world a little differently through her wonder.

Journal Excerpt

She often wrings her hands now, as if in mute distress or eternal petition. It’s amazing to watch her acquire a sense of self-consciousness, one body part at a time. She still hasn’t gotten over the fact that she has hands, with ten fingers attached. She gnaws on each one in careful succession to reassure herself of this fact. She opposes them and grabs things. I tell her this makes her practically a different person. Merely a month ago she could only stare intensely at objects; now she flings her hands out and wraps her fingers around whatever she can find.

Sometimes when she manages to grab ahold of my hand she’ll bring it to her mouth to suck and drool over it in great exuberance. Her tongue feels soft, like wet velvet.

Journal Excerpt

She has sprouted a new tooth, a faint white bud in the gummy ridges of her mouth. She hides it like her own little Christmas secret. I only saw it today when she stopped sucking her fist long enough to smile, and it flashed like a beacon heralding bright new days. Solid foods! Weaning! Mommy gets her life back! Tooth brushing! New tooth! New tooth!

Immediately about six family members were crowded around all trying to pry open her lower lip while she looked at us as if we had all lost our minds. Ahh, the holidays.

Things That We Lose

I have made the slightly startling discovery that my love for E is not something I can take for granted. Just like my love for God, or my husband, it is something I can choose to nurture, or choose to turn off. For some reason I thought a mother’s love was immune to this, that somehow it transcended the usual rules. I thought mothers never got tired or critical of their babies, never felt distant from them or apathetic about them. Or that if they did, it lasted only a moment before they were again overcome by effusive maternal feelings.

In a way she is easier to love than the other things I have committed to loving in my life. She is naturally adorable; she looks to me for security and identity. But in other ways she is more difficult to love. She can’t reciprocate, can’t understand what I say or always tell me how she feels. She can be incredibly moody and often unreasonable. Sometimes she is heart-breakingly cute, but other times she doesn’t look all that attractive.

One thing I have found since returning to work is that if I choose not to focus on her, not to intentionally love her, it is easy simply not to. It is easy when investing long hours and mental energy at work for my relationship with her to become functional. On the surface things seem okay—I manage to rush feeding her before heading to the OR, manage to get home in time to feed her before bedtime—but something changes in how I am towards her, how I see her. Something is lost in my delight in her.

This is the same way it is with God, and with marriage. There are things in our lives that are incredibly important but rarely demanding, and if we aren’t careful they slip away. The kind of intimacy with God that informs and guides our day. Delight in and deep respect for our spouse. An overflowing heart towards our children; awareness of the privilege it is to be a mother.

These are things I’m asking God to restore to me. I don’t know quite what it means yet to balance work and motherhood or marriage, but at least I know what I can’t afford to lose. And I’m asking for the insight and courage to see the choices I have, and make the right ones when I can.

Journal Excerpt

E has her first baby cold. It comes complete with a baby cough and baby phlegm. When she coughs she sounds like Madam Mim in The Sword in the Stone. When she breathes she rattles like a little Darth Vader. Apparently blowing one’s nose is an acquired skill. I feel like prescribing her chest physical therapy, like we do for old ladies with pneumonia in the hospital.