Journal:May 2000

May 12, 2000
Eva is sitting quietly, in the sling, in my lap, as I write this. She was born three weeks ago today. I keep thinking she's changed so much, but then I see other kids and I realize she still has that "newborn" look. Breastfeeding is still so hard! But I think it's getting better. I went to a LeLeche league meeting last night with Kelly. They were so nice and helpful. I brought this breastfeeding pillow I have (called a "boppy"). There were several toddlers there- they must all have boppies at home. One little girl immediately took my boppy, dragged it out into the middle of the floor, and sat down in it. Another little girl came over and took it away from her, and unhappiness ensued. I thought it was the cutest thing- watching those toddlers' play and walk and move around just seems the most amazing thing in the world. To think that Eva will someday be walking around and playing with things like that is almost overwhelming. Right now, her eyes don't even focus on the same thing at the same time. She flashed me a smile with her eyes open last night- that was the first time she'd done that, but I don't think the smile was for me, it was more just a reflection of an inner content. Still, I'll take what I can get. Her skin has broken out in pimples all over her little face and a few have appeared on her neck and shoulders. I feel bad, but the pediatrician warned us that this would happen and said it's totally normal. Everywhere we go, people stop to see her and say how beautiful she is- which is kind and what people always say, but I can't help feeling that when they say that, they mean "she's the most beautiful baby I've EVER seen!"

I read an article recently, about a woman that felt that same way about her baby. She was convinced that her baby was cuter than the Gerber baby, and took her to a modeling agency to get the baby into child modeling. Eva doesn't have that "Campbell's kid" kind of soft roundness to her features. Her features are still changing, but they seem smaller, sharper, more beautiful and elflike. I can't see wanting her to model- that just means I'd have to let strangers hold her, and take her picture. I'm just not ready to do that.

I'm still stunned by the irony of her- her body seems so small and fragile- but her muscles are SO strong. I worry that I'm not giving her enough to eat, but then she chomps down on my nipples with her gums so hard that Ken has started calling her a shark. She has only the barest hints of expressions flickering fleetingly across her face, but then she wrinkles up her little eyebrows, and opens her little rosebud mouth and screams loud enough to wake the dead! Sometimes she cries like her heart is breaking- when she wants something and we haven't figured out what it is, and I feel like she's giving up on us, thinking that we'll never figure it out, and she's devastated. I know I feel devastated. What will we do when she starts crying for thing she wants, instead of just basic survival needs? I hope that transition is easier to bear than this transition to being a food source has been.

Most of the time, I'm struck by her uniqueness- watching her change from day to day. Now though, she's sleeping deeply, with her tiny little body wedged between my body, and a pillow, and I am amazed that my body generated hers. I know she will be her own person, is already in fact. But it's amazing to me- my body did this- I made her. I watch my hand as it passes over her full head of hair. My hand that looks so much like my father's hand, only more delicate, more feminine, and I see her tiny little hands curled up next to her face. Her hands are so very much like little versions of my hands, of my father's hands. The sense of these fingers passed down through 4 generations, because these are also my grandmother's hands. When her eyes are closed, I see all these bits and pieces, put together from different places to form her, wholly new and different. When her eyes are open though, all I think about is "who are you?" and " Am I doing enough for you?" and I worry that I'm not giving her brain enough to work with- that she needs to feed more, or she needs more stimulation from me, or anything. I feel guilty whenever she's not in my arms, or whenever she's awake, or crying, and not on my breast, suckling. The women at the LLL meeting walked out with me, and they're last words of advice were that I should relax and not be too hard on myself. I love that advice. At the same time though, surely they understand that with all that anxiety and worry, comes the thrill of Eva- the newness of being "Mommy" and the newness of her. She lies here, with her little fists tucked tightly under her chin, and I watch her tiny chest, breathing in and out, so fast, but so deeply asleep, and the physics of her just blow me away. My body created hers- out of DNA, out of nothing, there was nothing, just random bio junk that we'd normally discard, and then time, and here she is- she exists, here is this person, like I am a person� out of my body comes hers. And there is this connection to life that I feel now in a way I never even thought to look for before. The way she smells, the way she moves, and twitches, my body made this other little body that does these things- this biological creation that is so fascinating, beyond even watching her grow and just the simple clear beauty of Eva being a being that is amazing in her own right, just for being alive and here for us to be falling in love with. I think all babies must be this amazing, but Eva is more amazing, because she is amazing to ME.

When I was pregnant, I felt like I was a universe. She was a planet within me, and I was all other things. I was the sun, but bigger, and I was the solar system, but bigger, and so I was everything. In the beginning of Eva, was me, and I was everything, and I wanted her, so it was good that she came into being. I felt godlike. Well, more godlike than usual I should say, if I'm being honest about my ego (on the inside in here, it's HUGE). There was a certain point along the way, maybe at around 4 months, when I suddenly knew that she knew I was here. I can never explain how this felt� I can't say I'd understand her sense of herself, but I just felt that she was aware of ME as a thing that was around her, and taking care of her. I thought maybe this is why all men/ societies believe in gods�. That we are born with this sense of an other that binds us, and surrounds us, and loves us and is watching over us, and then we are born in pain and light and suddenly, that intimate and constant connection of that other always being with us, is gone, that bond is severed, but we remember it, and maybe we subconsciously spend the rest of our lives reaching out, trying to connect again. Call this my "The mother-as-god theory". Another in a long line of crazy ideas I have about how the world maybe works.

May 22
Eva is asleep right now, in my lap, after another hardy round of feasting. I cross my fingers, but it looks like we really are getting the hang of this breast-feeding thing. Yesterday was her one-month anniversary. I keep saying this, maybe I'll have to keep on saying it till the day I die, but I can't believe how amazing she is. Last week, she grew so fast! Mom, Dad, and Ivy were here from Tuesday till Saturday morning. I was SO happy they were here. As Ken was picking them up from the airport in Oakland, I took Lilu for a walk. I dropped the leash at the foot of the stairs that lead to the front door. As I leaned down to pick up the leash, Eva fell out of the sling and flat onto the concrete below. I watched her fall in slow motion, like the worst nightmare I could imagine. She had been deep asleep, and in a fetal position. She hit the cement with a smack, on her side. I had already been halfway to the ground, so I don't think she fell more than the distance from my knee to the cement. It felt like an eternity of horror. I leaned down and picked her up and held her close to my chest. She hadn't woken up. I burst into tears and started making my way up the stairs. By the middle of the stairs, she was awake and screaming. I checked her all over, and didn't see any bruising or abrasions or anything, but I was terrified to let her go back to sleep in case she had a concussion or anything. It is the worst kind of fear and horror to know that you have caused damage to your child, and I am still feeling agony over it. Mom and all arrived maybe a half hour later. Mom checked her all over and comforted me- I asked if I should take her to the hospital or the doctor, and Mom said I should if it would make me feel better, but that she thought Eva was fine, and that all babies get dropped once or twice, and as long as there was nothing broken and no red in her eyes or anything, I should try not to beat myself up over it. Having Mom here made me feel so much better. I watched how she and Dad responded to Eva's cries and etc, and that helped me to gauge my own reactions.

We didn't take very many pictures of Eva in her third week because of her infant acne. Every time I think it's getting better, she gets more spots in a new place that are worse or at least just as bad. I am told it will get better, so I'm trying not to worry about it, but I am looking forward to kissing baby cheeks that are soft and smooth again.

Last week, she ate and grew so much, it is hard to describe. One day, before my parents came, she didn't take a real nap all day, but ate instead, on and off, for over 12 hours. I was a wreck by 4pm, and extremely tired by the time Ken came home. The next day though, my milk was coming in stronger, and she seemed to have grown in her sleep. She's also gotten more alert and seems to notice more things. There have been more changes in the last week, than in all the weeks before, combined. She started smiling. Mom was playing the tongue game with her when she smiled her first real for sure smile. It was incredible. Mom would stick out her tongue at Eva, then ask Eva to stick out HER tongue- and Eva would! THEN, Eva beamed Mom with the biggest smile ever! It was just the best thing in the whole world. She did it a lot while Mom was here. Mom took it in stride, but you know she must have been ecstatic to be the beneficiary of Eva's first real smile. I'm glad it was Mom. I miss having the women in my family around to support me and to show by example, what to do. Yesterday morning, Eva gave Ken 3 huge smiles, and a sound that almost sounded like the beginning of a laugh. She has the most beautiful smile.

Last week was mother's day and my birthday. Now I am 30. I got so many mother's day cards and birthday greetings! Mom bought some fabric to make me some breast-feeding tops and dresses- that will be nice. Gram sent me a sliver necklace with a baby carriage charm on it- I liked it because it catches the light nicely, and also, because it was the only real "on my birthday" present I received. I had wanted a big party and something special for my 30th birthday, but with my parents here and the baby and everything all still a special kind of chaos, there was just no way. The highlight of my birthday was a phone call from Kelly, wishing me a happy birthday. May 17th is her birthday too. It's extra cool that we share a birthday (although that is special enough) but Kelly's baby was born on April 20th last year- the day before Eva. They almost share a birthday too. Kelly told me that she had been rooting for Eva to be born on the 20th the whole time- that cracks me up. For my birthday, Mom and Dad made this amazing smoked Gouda Risotto, and Adobo chicken. We invited Ken's parents over too- they got me a nice, soft black bathrobe. That first week after Eva's birth, I spent a lot of time walking around naked. I guess they figured I didn't have a bathrobe. I have 4 (well, 5 now) but I didn't want to get blood on any of them. My favorite robe is this beautiful kimono that Yoshie and Brian gave me during the pregnancy. Yoshie's Mom owns a Kimono shop in Kyoto, Japan, and all the kimonos sold there are hand made. Toward the end of the pregnancy, my belly got a little more substantial than the kimono could cover, but I still wore it daily. I love that kimono- wearing it makes me feel beautiful. This month is also Lilu's birthday- she's 2 years old now. She still acts like a puppy, but like a puppy that loves everybody, especially me, very much.

Deborah stopped by today to give me some vitamin K and weigh the baby and generally shoot the breeze. Next week will be the last midwife visit. She was wonderful about the vitamin K thing- I'm having an impossible time getting vitamin K for Eva so she gave me some of her private stash. According to Deborah's scale, Eva is 8 pounds, 8 ounces. She took 2 ounces off for clothing. I guess that's a half pound underweight, but I think its bullshit. For one thing, it's hot out today, and I don't think Eva's clothing counts for 2 ounces of her weight. For another, I don't trust the scale they use. I think Eva probably weighs more, and I will wait to see what the doctor's scale says when we go in on Wednesday. For a third, I don't really care even if she does appear to be a bit underweight- she's been growing fast, is alert and super strong, and I think she's fine. If the pediatrician tells me to worry, I'll worry, but otherwise, I think we're doing great. Deborah spent some time trying to give me some parenting tips. I tried not to be an asshole, and to listen politely, but it's hard to listen to anyone when your inner voice keeps interrupting with "you will NOT be an asshole, do NOT be an asshole here�". It's distracting.