Now that Edith is two months old, I think of her as a big girl. The changes that have happened in the last month sure seem to make it that way: She’s vastly different than 30 days ago.
I vividly recall when the midwife placed Edith Mae, purple and screaming, on my chest immediately after her birth. How big and scary the world must have been. She was accustomed to her cozy, warm home inside me for 40 weeks; so much space, light and sound surely felt alien.
Now Edie wants to explore her surroundings. When we took a family walk the other night, she began to scream when Eric put her in the carrier. As soon as he took her out and held her, though, she quieted. She spent the next 20 minutes staring at the trees, the sky and the pattern of light filtering through the leaves.
At home it’s much the same. About a week ago, she changed from a happy baby as long as she was being held to screaming unless she was carried face-out. And the view isn’t enough; the scenery must constantly change. I probably walk miles by pacing our two-bedroom apartment every day. And if that fails, I just take her out on the balcony. I don’t know if it’s the fresh air or the sound of cars going by, but this child loves the outdoors.
As she grows up and wants to take in the world, she spends much less time cuddled on my chest. I know it’s silly, but I miss her frog-legged snuggles with her head tucked just below my chin. So when she does fall asleep that way, I savor it. I don’t get any work done, but I’m past caring. (Usually.) Her head is the perfect distance for kissing, and I take advantage of that, too.