ON HENRY HOLBROOK'S FIRST WEEK HOME

This post is sponsored by Disney Baby. I'll be joining the Disney Baby blogging team next month, and look forward to sharing these kinds of stories (projects/ideas/etc) with you over there. Stay tuned for more details!

henry holbrook, three days old

these disney baby posts have been a chance to write down what i wish i'd thought to write down when henry holbrook was very, very little. so as i ran errands today, and made lunch, and then cleaned lunch off the floor... i thought about the very beginning of henry holbrook. i tried to imagine the gaps in my account of his life in this blog. what didn't i write about? here is my chance. so here goes. henry holbrook's first week home.

henry holbrook, three days old

henry holbrook was born an old soul. it was one of the first things i noticed about him when he was laid on my chest in the delivery room, his poor head all smooshed after spending a full forty-five minutes with half his head stuck on one side of life and half his head on the other. he was all smooshed and he looked so insulted. and i remember thinking, staring at that indignant face of his, "kid! do you have any idea how hard i worked to get you here?" and i did. i worked hard. forty-five minutes of crowning, three hours of pushing, five hours of laboring, thirty-nine weeks and six days of cooking, two months of clomid, twenty-one months of ovulation sticks and negative pregnancy tests and day counting and trying all kinds of weird stuff, plus two years of waiting before that for my husband to finally agree it was "the time." oh yes, i worked hard. the least he could do was show me some appreciation! but he had his own ideas from the very beginning, and i could tell. i could see them on his face. from that first moment and ever since, any time it seemed he was trying to tell me something, i'd hush up and listen. nod my head somberly at whatever he told me. i figured out very early on that what i wanted my babies to know above all else, was that i heard them. that would be my legacy. that i always listened patiently, and that i always tried to understand. 

henry holbrook, five days old

the beginning of henry holbrook felt like a never ending sunday night. you know when it's sunday and your body clock tells you it's late, but miraculously it's somehow only a few minutes past four, and it's dusky out and you're lazily cooped up inside, nowhere to go and nothing to rush you? that's what henry holbrook's first days felt like to me. i would stare at his face and time would drip by so slowly, and so quickly, and pass me a burp rag please and hey, is there any fruit left in the fridge? my memories of that time are as blurry as this photo, taken on halloween when henry holbrook was just five days old, when everything felt woozy and sleepy and delicious. 

henry holbrook, six days old

(this last one makes me cry every. blasted. time.)

i ate fruit that first week like it was going out of style. i couldn't stand the thought of anything that wasn't 80% water or higher. we had the air on full blast and the baby wrapped up burrito-tight and i just sweated and sweated off all that weight as i patted and bounced and shushed. it was gross and sort of primal. i'd put a shirt on in the morning and it lasted all of ten minutes before it was off in a frustrated crumple on the floor. more than twice i answered the door in nothing but yoga pants and a nursing bra. henry holbrook's first week was strictly clothing optional.

henry holbrook, two days old

on day three my milk let down with a vengeance. if my body needed convincing to make a baby, it needed hardly any encouragement to fatten him up. i'll never forget waking up that morning, walking to the bathroom for a shower, taking one look at the girls in the mirror and thinking whaaaaaaat? i couldn't wait to show brandon. look but don't touch! ouch. never in his wildest imagination, i tell you what. G, is what the bra fitter measured me at that day. if you think i am exaggerating... i'm not! for once. up past my clavicles, hard as rocks. imagine that barreling toward your face and now you know how it felt to be henry holbrook.

natalie holbrook, mom of two days

we did not have an easy time nursing, not at first. my milk was overeager and henry holbrook was quite unimpressed. he'd scream and fuss and he had horrible reflux. it was hard. and nursing really hurt. but i was weirdly calm and patient about it. i was nothing at all like me, actually. i was getting at peek at mom-me and i was sort of in awe at her. mom-me has a much cooler head than normal-me. at about three months in, it suddenly clicked, and then, then he got really fat. since then we've had the best of luck, and nursing has been one of my favorite parts of motherhood. (good trick i learned: nurse only on one side, for as many as three feedings in a row, no switching. cleared things up in about a week.) 

henry holbrook, four days old

every night that first week around 9PM a strange sadness would set in as i realized that another day with henry holbrook so brand new was ending. i was exquisitely aware that this experience was never going to happen to me again. not that i wouldn't have more babies (knock on wood!), but that no matter how many i had, or however many times i'd get to hold a freshly born baby of my own, just three days old--it was never going to be like this, ever again. i wouldn't get to experience a first baby a second time. and oh, there is just something about a first baby, and something so beautiful about a first time mom. i tried my best that first week to bottle every feeling up and cork a lid on it; save some for later. if i could go anywhere, anywhere in this whole world, i'd go back to that first week. that first week i was more than just myself: i was somebody's entire existence. and i had nothing to do with my days but just gaze and gaze and gaze at his serious, thoughtful little face, and sleep when he slept, and nod my head when he wanted to tell me something, and dream about the whole life that lay ahead of us.

the next disney baby post:

on pregnancy face, pregnancy arms, pregnancy elbows, 

and feeling pretty anyway, 

or at least trying to