The Leen

It’s late, the snow is falling (and falling and falling) outside, and Elanor and Brett are sleeping. I’m supposed to be blogging, but despite the fact that I usually compose about a million blog posts in my head throughout the course of any given day, I can’t seem to think of much to write. So, I guess this will just be a rambly post about whatever comes into my head.

The big story here in Seattle, of course, is the snow. I’ve never seen this much snow in Seattle, nor have I seen it stick around for this long. It’s so bizarre and feels like we’re in Maine. I tell my friends here that this is what Maine is like, all winter long, and they look at me with horror-stricken expressions. I guess I don’t mind the snow as much here as I did in Maine, mostly because I know that even though this is a relatively long stretch of snowy weather, it’s nothing compared to a Maine winter, and it will melt sooner rather than later, and we’ll get back to a normal, rainy winter.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this time last year, about how pregnant I was and how ready I was to just not be pregnant anymore. It wasn’t necessarily even about getting to meet Elanor; it was just that I wanted to be able to sleep and not hurt all the time and be able to walk and just function as a normal human being.

One year ago tonight, I wrote this post. I remember feeling so frightened of what was to come and of all the logistics surrounding Elanor’s birth, and so desperate to just be done. I can totally see that desperation in the words I wrote, and I feel a little sorry for my uncomfortable, pregnant self. I wish I could have let go and enjoyed the last few weeks more, instead of just wishing so fervently for it all to just be over.

I know that at the time I was pretty darn miserable, but in retrospect it seems like such a sweet time, a time of anticipation and excitement, a time of being coddled and babied a bit by Brett and everyone else around me, a time of playing lots of Nintendo, eating pizza, enjoying our then-new digital TV, and a time of just being generally lazy.

And then, of course, was the excitement of Elanor’s birth and the amazing, fragile, frightening, overwhelming love that hit when she was born. I remember doing everything very gingerly and carefully in the first few weeks. Partly that’s probably because I was recovering from a c-section, so I had to be careful and deliberate, but there was also that new parent sense of needing all ducks to be in a row, to have her hat and her blanket coordinate with her outfit, to have a perfectly organized and stocked diaper bag (still free of spit-up stains and looking crisp and new) with me at all times, to have new toys that hadn’t been chewed on and mangled hanging from the car seat to entertain a lump of a baby who couldn’t even see far enough to appreciate them.

I remember taking Elanor to get her blood drawn several times because she had jaundice. I remember taking her to the hospital down the street from us, carefully parking outside as close to the door as possible so that she wouldn’t have to be out in the cold long, then Brett carrying her in the carseat down the seemingly endless hallway to the blood lab with me limping along behind, still very sore from the c-section but determined to wean myself from the Percocet.

After one of these blood draws, Brett wanted to take her down to his work to show her off. She must have only been about four days old; I think it was on my actual due date. Despite being exhausted just from the outing to the blood lab, I agreed. I don’t remember much about that visit other than Brett being so extremely proud to show off  his daughter. That day still sticks in my mind; I think it was the first time that the three of us went anywhere alone, other than the drive home from the hospital. It felt so strange and frightening and wonderful to be out in the world with our little girl. Everyone looked at us, curious to see the tiny baby, to proclaim her adorable, and looking at me to see how I was faring after pregnancy and childbirth. It was like being a celebrity: every time we went somewhere, multiple people would stop us and talk to us about Elanor and how gorgeous she was.

That tiny, dark-haired, sleepy little girl seems like a different person than the hilarious, active, bright-eyed toddler we have on our hands today. It’s hard to make the leap that she was once that snuggly, almost frighteninginly awe-inspiring, wonderfully tiny little being. But she was! And I guess in a year, or two years, or five, or ten, or 20, I’ll feel the same way about the toddler she is now — that it’s hard to imagine that she was ever a tiny little toddler, sporting jaunty, lopsided pigtails, a giant cloth diaper butt, and a gap-toothed, wrinkly-nosed smile.

Tiny little girl, only five days old.

Monday night, standing up and playing with an espresso maching at Papa's work, being full of personality.

See! It’s hard to imagine that they’re the same person, and that huge change has happened in less than a year!

Okay, enough sappy thoughts from me. While I’m so, so glad to not be pregnant anymore, I do miss the newness and wonder and anticipation that was present in my life this time last year, even though it was a really hard time. Oh, what am I saying?! Ha. If I’d seen myself writing this post a year ago, I would have probably laughed and called myself crazy for romanticizing any of that time.

Anyway, despite any nostalgia that I might feel, I’m happy to be here, now, in this moment, with my big, personality-filled girl asleep upstairs. I’m looking forward to waking up with her tomorrow (as early as that may be) and spending the day together with she and Brett. Maybe we’ll go sledding, or build a snowman, or just walk to Fiore for a coffee. Whatever we’ll do, I’m looking forward to spending it with she and her papa.