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| Truth to tell, these pictures are already a little old, Pippa is quite a bit bigger and chubbier! |
When I talk to people who are about to have their first baby, there is something I always like to tell them. It's not uncommon knowledge--but it's a phenomenon I was woefully unaware of during the first weeks with Maria. I'll write it here for good measure:
Dear First Time Parent,
It
is normal to feel like you've fallen down a rabbit hole during the
first months with a new baby. You may discover, as I did, that your
offspring finds life to be a "stern, solemn" thing. She
cries a lot! Is it gas? Is it colic? Is it deep disappointment at not
being been born into a hunter gatherer Eden? Whatever it is, the baby
wants to be nursed and carried day and night, and nothing in your
education will have quite prepared you for the physical and mental
challenge of it. Take comfort, first-time parent! Know that you just
have to muddle through for a while. Around three months, things
will somehow--almost inexplicably--become easier.
Recent
weeks have found me clinging to my own words, looking for signs that
the muddling stage will give way to a new order. We may be less
bewildered than were were during Maria's early infancy--we've learned a
few valuable tricks, and I've been toughened by four years of
nursing--but the chaos has scaled to fill a four bedroom house and the
lives of two additional little people. Our home is a whirl of laundry, play food, and
pieces of wood debris (we rely on daily wood fires keep the house comfortable). Many's the time that Donnie or I have raised our
hands to the heavens and exclaimed "Squalor! Squalor!" in lament of
the piteous state of housekeeping.
That I'm writing this now is a sign that a new order may be emerging. Pippa is asleep downstairs, having been put to bed awake. Yes, she seems
to be learning the trick of falling asleep on her own. What a mercy
that is, after two babies who only learned the trick after many nights of ninety minute
scream sessions! And now, in this blessed, scream-free calm, I'll
write of the incredible sweetness of having a little baby in the house
again.
It is lovely how older girls have taken to their
new sister. From the start, Maria has cast herself in the roll of
teacher, seeking an intellectual connection with her youngest sibling:
"Pippa, I'm Maria. You're Pippa. That's Mommy. This Place you're in is called a house. Everything outside the house is called the World.
The World is on a Planet called Earth. One, day, you'll come to my
school and I will show it to you---but it won't be the real thing, it
will be a Globe."
She ties string to popsicle sticks
to make "magic wands" for the baby to grasp and decorates the baby in
felt jewelry. When Pippa is upset, she says, "Pippa, Mommy is here!
Sister is here!" And when that fails, she waltzes away and occupies
herself elsewhere, seemingly unconcerned by the crying.
Loulou,
true to style and age, takes a more physical approach. When we
introduced Pippa to a pacifier, Louisa, decided that it was her job to
put the binkie back into the Baby's mouth when the baby let go of it.
Loulou became the guardian of the binkie, , running across the room to
replace the pacifier and shrieking in protest when anyone else performed
the function. (Over the last weeks, we've managed to misplace the
pacifiers, and haven't gotten around replacing them, so this isn't so
much of a thing now). Loulou is more apt to join in the chorus when
the baby cries. Her overtures to Pippa take the form of nearly crushing
hugs, which the baby seems to mind only a little. Pippa isn't in the
room, Loulou will ask where she is.
There are
outbreaks of jealousy and lap wars. There are plenty of screamy
moments and sighs of relief when all littles are in
bed, but they don't overshadow the convivial side of life with three
little girls.
Of course there is the sweetness of the baby
herself: those plummy, soft cheeks and the perfect curve of eyelashes
closed in
sleep; the way she seems to be longer and plumper after each nap; the
kaleidoscopic expressions of concentration and those elusive,
incandescent smiles. Pippa an excellent nurser (gained three pounds
last month). Temperment-wise, she seems to resemble Maria more than
Louisa (though I have a hard time articulating why--and life may well
prove me wrong). She is
the first of the girls to have blue eyes (M and L both had slate gray
eyes that looked from the get go like they were heading for brown). We
have genes for blue, hazel, and brown eyes floating in the family gene pool, and
it will be exciting to see which color emerges. But those light eyes
seem to project a question mark. What will this baby become? A
newborn's potential is a terrible in the old sense of the word, as is
her dependency. When I think on this, I grow a little wobbly in the
knees. But mostly, we just enjoy this funny, cuddly, and sometime
difficult nine-week old. She already has a collection of nicknames--Pipsqueak, Cutie-kins, Snort-buckets--but my favorite is a souvenir from a wedding we went to in St. Louis--it's
Billikin.
