So yes, she's turning three and we're finally enforcing the no-pacie rule. I know we should have done it sooner, but we weren't ready to rush her out of being a baby. Pippi is both second child and last child. I'm okay with being done, but I didn't think it would go by so fast.
And with the second child, it all moves so very quickly. But it's also less stressful and, in some ways, easier to remember than the first time. I actually think back fondly on Pippi's early weeks, even with the exhaustion and the c-section recovery -- and that's really saying something, given that we sold our house, husband started a new job, we moved in with my parents, we bought a new house and then moved to Raleigh all within her first four months.
Today's topic: Three early memories I cherish
- On the scales: In that picture above, Pippi doesn't look too happy. Downright furious, in fact. But at that very moment, I was thrilled -- because I could actually see her. When Junius was born, they whisked him away as soon as the doctor wrestled him out of me -- meconium and all sorts of mess. With Pippi (at a different hospital), the nurses weighed her and cleaned her right beside the operating table -- so even though I couldn't hold her close, I was still present for those first moments.
- In the boppy: Her first week at home, Pippi seemed like the miracle baby. She slept at night and took naps in the bassinet -- both things her brother never did. Her daddy and I were mesmerized by the sight of her sound asleep, tucked into the boppy on the couch with us while we watched HBO's John Adams miniseries. It was our first sign that we might survive another newborn. (Note: She woke up the following week, but it was still better sleep than our first year with the J-man.)
- Nursing before bed: Because the rest of our home life was turned upside down during those first months, I treasured tiny moments of peace to snuggle with Pippi. Once we moved in with my parents (bless them), I'd sneak upstairs to nurse her before we put Junius to bed. Just Pippi and me in the half-light of early evening, nestled into my parents' enormous bed listening to the muffled sounds of busy life from downstairs. It was only 30, maybe 45 minutes -- but it was still our peace.