Miss Elvie Kathryn turned four months on the third of July. [Read more…]
(with apologies to Kipling)
Long ago, O Mostly Liked, or maybe last weekend, there was a mother who lived on a hill called Janderhil. And she had four little children that she called her own: Ephraim Eldest, Clive Contrary, the pretty baby Elvie Kate, who smiled and sang but didn’t say much, and Anselm. And all morning and all evening the children played out-of-doors, except of course the pretty baby Elvie Kate, who smiled and sang but didn’t say much, as she couldn’t get around on her own just yet. She stayed in-of-doors with her Mother, but the other three played and frolicked out-of-doors until the sun set and the fireflies came out.
And it was one day after dinner, which was scrumptious and nutritious, that the Mother went out-of-doors herself, because Elvie Kate (who smiled and sang but didn’t say much) was already asleep for the night, and because she had some work to do in the flower-beds. And she called Ephraim Eldest to herself, and said:
It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon, and everyone is resting but Elvie Kate and Mama. I am seated at the table with the open computer, a leftover cupcake and cup of coffee resting beside the machine. Lying on the floor nearby is Madame Herself; she is positioned under the wooden gym toy that every baby in our family has used and loved. She flails wildly as she sings to the toys dangling overhead, and every now and then she quiets and makes a slow, methodical swipe at them with her left hand.
We’ve come to the stage of monthly updates where there is really something to update about. Those Deliberate Swipes are something that have manifested just in the last week or two. Before that, if you put her on the floor, she would crab and complain until someone came to talk to her (so she could talk back.) Now she is content to study and converse with the toy itself for a quite a while. When she fusses I know it’s time to put her down for a nap.
Miss Elvie Kate turned two months yesterday.
She’s quite the little thing, captivating her brothers and wowing strangers at the grocery store with her astonishing collection of head wraps. Incidentally, I’m awfully glad we have those wraps and head contraptions since she has very little hair to speak of, which I knew would be the case should we ever have a baby girl. The boys all had hair in spades, and I had to cut it again and again and again. And now here’s someone whose hair I don’t have to cut, but she doesn’t have any…! Life isn’t fair.
One of the very hardest things for me right now is writing. Whether it’s finding the time, or finding the desire when I have the time, or finding the words once I have the desire and the time…you get the picture. I’ll lay most of the blame at Elvie Kate’s [tiny, adorable, pink] feet, though I’ll blame myself a bit too, and other life circumstances, and then I’ll throw my hands in the air (full of confetti, of course) because no one’s to blame, and I why do I keep trying to find reasons to place blame upon?
We’re moving in less than a month, and I’ve packed one box. It’s of Elvie Kate’s things–decor from her nursery and clothes she can’t wear yet–I have no idea where to start, but I do know that I can work with a much clearer mind when I’m right up on a deadline, so I’m not rushing quite yet to push through the muddled fog that are my mental processes at the moment. I’m just trying to get caught up on the laundry first.
In the meantime I am dreaming of forgetting things in various rooms but not having to climb stairs to go get them (new house is a ranch style) and not driving down our street to find the neighbors have parked three cars deep in the cup-de-sac again. Also trying to grab every moment left with our friends here, and saying yes often, while we still can.
We’re overdue for an update, So here’s life lately.
Elvie Kate is one month old today!
These first few milestones are always so surreal. It’s hard to believe that one month ago, this very minute, I was lying on a hospital bed, shaking uncontrollably from the dose of medicine they gave me to make sure I didn’t hemorrhage again. Boy did it take me a long time to recover from her birth, which is ironic seeing as it was the fastest one so far.
For starters, thanks so much to those who have sent messages and comments expressing thanks for these honest updates. It is always so encouraging to know people read and appreciate–thank you!
I felt a little badly last week while writing that the week had been easy. Not that I minded having an easy week, but I didn’t think it would be very interesting or helpful. “This week was great!” Um, the end…? Well, this past week has made up for it. So enjoy! 😉
If you’ve spent much time around my blog and Instagram, you know that there are a couple of songs that have been a source of comfort and hope for me over the past year–both written by a long-time friend, and part of her latest album that released last year not long after our second miscarriage.
I haven’t talked much about a third song that held a deep meaning for me. I don’t really have a reason, just that the need to mention it never really came up.
I hesitated while typing the title of this post, wondering how long I’ll keep up the “postpartum” portion, because I have no idea how long that technically lasts. Six weeks? Six months? A year? Oh well, it’s there for now, and I suppose I’ll drop it when I no longer have anything interesting to say about myself!