Would I be out of line if I said, "I miss you?"

It has been one year.

and even when I’m holding Harrison, I still ache for the baby I will never know. I am so thankful for Harrison. So proud of him, so thankful for his health, so in love with his blonde hair that some days, I think I will explode.
But even a year later with a healthy baby, it doesn’t make the miscarriage okay. It doesn’t make me not miss Harpie. It doesn’t take away the sting or how losing a baby changed me as a woman & a person forever. Maybe that makes me a little crazy. A little emo. Or maybe it makes me completely normal & the most sane, to love any life that much.
HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 Would I be out of line if I said, "I miss you?"

Unless you’re selling Thin Mints, step off my doorbell.

After Harrison was woken prematurely from a nap for the THIRD WEEK DAY IN A ROW, I resorted to drastic measures past the typical “No Solicitations” sign:

img 2606 1024x768 Unless youre selling Thin Mints, step off my doorbell.

(yes, your third grader has better penmenship than I do. I accept defeat.)
It’s not the doorbell that wakes him. It’s Tuck going batshitcrazy at the human who dares threaten her home & boy via innocent knock. So although I considered simply disconnecting the doorbell, it wouldn’t stop the insanity in case the solicitors knocked. & after ADT (the security company, the irony of it all) attempted to sell their wares on our front porch for the second time in under 5 days, Tuck nearly launched herself through the glass in the door. Because they rang the doorbell. Twice. & when I didn’t answer, they knocked. & Tuck was 3.2 seconds away from giving herself an aneurysm from barking.
My note is rude, yes. Because even though they have the dissapointment of lacking sales, I’m left juggling a sobbing, cranky, exhausted 4-week old. & in my opinion, that injustice denies the need for polite society.

Let me tell you ’bout my beeeest friend…

I get this question a lot — “How is Tuck doing with the baby?”

& I could write a long post about how much she loves him, how she nudges him on the head the way a mother dog does to her pups, or how obsessively protective she has become of him & our home. But I’d rather let pictures do the talking:
img 25952 1024x768 Let me tell you bout my beeeest friend...
Being Harrison’s favorite kick toy.
img 25641 1024x768 Let me tell you bout my beeeest friend...
& sometimes, Tuck offers moral support during Tummy Time.
img 26042 1024x768 Let me tell you bout my beeeest friend...
But after all that hard play, it’s time to nap again. On each other, for safe-keeping.
img 25751 1024x768 Let me tell you bout my beeeest friend...
But most of the time, they hang out under the gym like the popular kids. Tuck licks him & he coos back.
Proof that you do not need to boot your dog just because you’re having a kid, no matter what the breed (we received some negative flack for having a Shepherd mix with a baby). We did spend the year I was pregnant working with her — honing on her obedience, working on social skills at the dog park & play dates, & making sure she knew the nursery was a “calm” room where she is expected to sit or lay the entire time. The result? A boy’s best friend.

But for now I’m rocking my baby, & babies don’t keep…

But children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby. Babies don’t keep.
~Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Dear Harrison,

Today, we celebrate the past thirty-one days. Thirty-one days of bliss. Thirty-one days of tears. Thirty-one days since you were born. Thirty-one days since my life changed forever. Thirty-one days that flew by so fast, I fear that the next thirty-one years will pass in the blink of an eye.
Last night, I sat in your nursery & rocked you, even though you had been passed-out with the bliss of being milk-drunk for 30 minutes & even though your father was begging me to come to bed. But I rocked you because I could…because you are still so dependent & wee that you curl into my neck, little baby whimpers & snores that I so longed to hear. I rocked you, because I know that it brings you “home,” as it does for me. I rocked you, because I fear that far too soon, you will struggle to get down. I rocked you those extra minutes, because I waited an entire year to do so.
I rocked you, even though I had a load of laundry, waiting to be flipped over. A blog that sits neglected on the internet, void of much true posting in the past month. A dog that begs to be walked, & a husband that needs to be kissed. I rocked you, memorizing the lines on your little face, even though I can see the dustbunnies under my china cabinet. I bent down & kissed your cheek, inhaling that sweet post-bath baby smell. I laughed at the way your lower lip stuck out in a full pout. & I know that at this time in my life, I’ve never been more thrilled to have a filthy house, bills that are stacked on the kitchen table, & dinner that is often not made until 9pm.
Because last night, I rocked you, soaking you in & knowing that you can’t stay this little forever.
How is it that I am already packing away newborn sleepers & pants, re-arranging drawers to make room for 3-month clothing? Have you already grown so much that we’ve doubled the amount of formula you drink every bottle? Has it really been a month since the first time I heard your little “uh-huh uh-huh” cry, or kissed your platinum Donald Trump hair?
I thought back to my hopes & expectations while I carried you & I asked myself — has it been everything I dreamed of? It has been better & more than ever expected. & I look forward to the new hopes & expectations that I have for you as you grow. So grow, Harrison. Grow, even though I cling to you & your newborn sleepers, wishing I could keep you this little forever. Even while I rock you longer, knowing that babies don’t keep.
I love you forever.
Love,
Momma

img 2603 2 1024x768 But for now Im rocking my baby, & babies dont keep...

Harrison, 1 month.

Since several have asked…

Cow Baby Legs — from Target. I bought them a few months ago, but think I saw them at our local one just a few weeks ago. $9.99 per pair, roughly?

Whale sweater — Carter’s. der. You can probably snag it super-cheap since it is “last season” now.
Stealing is for losers. Copyright 2008-2012 Beth Anne Ballance