Dear Kara — month 1
You are now 1 month old, and you are beautiful.
While I was pregnant with you, between the episodes of intense nausea, vomiting, and eventual excruciating body pain, I prayed that you would be healthy, and that your birth would go smoothly.
You are certainly healthy, and I was able to give birth to you via VBAC (which is amazing), but beyond that, you are just so exceptionally beautiful that I really feel like I was blessed above and beyond what anyone could ask for.
Of course, I can’t help but draw comparisons between you and your brother. There are definite similarities in your appearance, with one stark difference — your thick black hair! Even the doctor commented on how lovely your hair was as you were emerging from my body, and that black hair motivated me to make those final few pushes.
Your personality mirrors your brother’s in some ways, too. Your brother also had evening fussiness (who am I kidding, let’s call it what it is, the all-night-screamies), and like him, you are doing your best to keep me awake all night, every night.
You love to snuggle, and would rather be sleeping on me than anywhere else. In fact, you are more and more reluctant to stay asleep when placed in your crib. As much as I need sleep (and I need it desperately), I am enjoying these precious moments that you are small enough to sleep on my chest, with your sweet little head nestled under my chin.
I know all too well that this phase will be gone far too quickly.
I feel like I need to knock on wood every time I mention this, but, you are breastfeeding like a champion so far, and this couldn’t make me happier. I won’t say that it is easy, or that we’re out of the woods, but I am optimistic.
You have already changed so much in four short weeks. You are more alert, and enjoy looking all around with those pretty eyes (I’m guessing your eyes will be deep brown like mine, and like your brother’s), and you have started to coo, which is just the most adorable thing ever.
So, Kara, I write this letter to you with a touch of sadness — sadness that you will only fully understand when you have a baby of your own. I also write this letter with a great deal of joy, and thankfulness to God. You are my last baby, and I am so deeply aware of the need to savor every moment, every smile, every cry, every milestone.
You are a unique, beautiful, precious jewel, and I am so happy to call you my daughter.