Kind-of How I Look in the Morning…

Desktop1Aurora has the best “wake up” hair I’ve ever seen. It’s almost as if overnight, she grew a ton of hair. Looking at her pictures from only a few months ago, she hardly had any. Her hair isn’t thick (I’m afraid she may have received the extra thin, very fine hair gene from both of her parents) but there is a lot of it.

She does clean up nice though. And who am I kidding? She rocks the bed head, too.



The Calm Before the Storm

BeFunky_DSCN3308This morning I knew it wasn’t going to be a good day.

It’s her 12 month appointment, and I knew she was going to have to get some shots. I’m the mother that doesn’t handle that sort of thing well, with my eyes close to tears when Aurora is screaming in seeming agony.

I get there 20 minutes early, fill out my paperwork and sit down to wait. Also in the waiting room is a mother and daughter, and the daughter is bouncing around and coughing loudly, while her mother tells another parent there that she thinks her child has mono. Immediately my senses are heightened and I try to politely turn my dear daughter away from the probably mono-infested child. The less than thrilled nurse comes to the door, calls Aurora, and in we go – with ten minutes to spare before our appointment time, I might add. Success. The sooner I’m in, the sooner I’m out.

I go in, and the nurse asks (like I should have known this),

“Did you bring Aurora’s shot record with you?”

“No, should I have?”

“Well, we have nothing scanned for her records, so, yeah.”

Let me just bring up the fact that at Aurora’s 9 month check up, this same conversation happened, but we just moved from Utah, so it made sense that we should have her shot records. I called my old pediatrician, had them fax over her records, and all was well. They received the records, but I guess did not scan them.

“Well, this happened before. Did they not scan them?”

“I have nothing in the computer.”

She leaves, I call my old pediatrican’s office, they agree to fax them — again — and my doctor comes in. Everything with the check-up went wonderful. He complimented my mothering, said she’s beautiful and growing perfectly. I was feeling good. He mentioned on his way out that the shots were on their way. 20 minutes later (and it’s really hot in those little rooms) the same lovely nurse comes back in. I asked if she’d received the fax. She said, “I’ve received nothing.” Great. We finally get all that taken care of, and the shots begin. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those stupid things. She buried her head into my scarf while I tried to whisper in her ear that it’s okay. Heart wrenching.

After that ordeal, the nurse mentions that she will have to have some blood drawn in the lab. Sigh. Bring it on. I go downstairs and enter the ill-lit lab (why must they ALWAYS look soooo grim?) only to find that it is jam-packed with elderly people waiting. I sign in, and am quite aware of the silence – because every noise Aurora makes is echoed and exaggerated. We wait for 45 minutes. I was on my mom A-game. We played with the water fountain, we read through some political magazines, we played with the fake plant that needed desperately to be dusted, I threw her up in the air, twirled her around. She was pretty good considering the circumstances.

Then they finally call our name. I breathe in deep and go in. The second we sat down and the young nurse grabbed her little hand, she knew something was coming and started to freak. She again buried her head into my chest, and we started another cry-fest.

And then when he was finished, she peed all over my leg.

And that was the cherry on top of my morning.


Letter to Aurora, Who is One

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(You can tell how tired Mom and Dad were holding you… that was a pretty long night!)

Hey Aurora,

Did you know that every single night, your father and I sneak in and check on you? And every single night we cover our mouths and usually laugh because you have your bum in the air, or are just looking too cute for words. For real, do you even realize how cute you are? I think you do, because you love looking at pictures of yourself, or looking at yourself in the mirror. Anytime we want to get a smile from you, we put you in front of something reflective. And a lot of times, after mama has taken a million pictures of you – you always want to see what they look like. You have become a little model, usually smiling when I pull out the camera. I have trained you well. ;)

This year has been an interesting one, hasn’t it? There have been ups and downs. You are definitely a lover. You need your mother, and you need to be close to her. Sometimes it can get a little overwhelming, like when I want to cook dinner or change my clothes… but how can I be that upset when all you want is to be near me? You are definitely a mama’s girl, and say “ma ma ma ma” every chance you get. My favorite is when you are in “distress” and say “ma ma” so pitifully it makes my heart hurt. You are a sweet little girl.

You are a very deliberate lady. You do things at your own pace, on your own timing. After a while of not even attempting to crawl, we tried to help you along in the process. You had nothing of it. So one day, I held a bottle at one end of the room – and you crawled to get it. Very slowly, but you did. Even now, you crawl slowly but surely… as if every move is a deliberate one. I hope that you’ll be just as deliberate in your choices as you get older. ;) Right now, we’re waiting for you to take your first steps, but we know not to rush you. You’ll get there.

There were a lot of expectations about babies that we’d heard, and you didn’t meet any of them. By this, I mean you are awesome. You didn’t cry during your first bath, you like 99.9% of every food we give you, you go to bed seamlessly – without even a whine, you’re (for the most part) calm and collected… from the beginning, you spoiled us. We’re nervous about the future siblings, because they have a lot to live up to!

You have much family that loves you. Here, you are snuggled on a daily basis – and that isn’t even close to the amount of family you have elsewhere! You are a spoiled little girl! Someone is always calling to see how you are, and you often get little presents in the mail from family far away.

Independence isn’t your strong suit —yet. I know you’ll get there, but right now, you like company and attention. There are days when you surprise me, though.. and you play great alone. I would say it’s a bittersweet moment, but really I’m just so dang proud.

Your eyes are a hot commodity. Did you know that wherever we go, I usually get at least one person who stops us to compliment your beauty? And 9 times out of 10, they mention those brown beauties. You get shy and dig your head into mama’s chest when this happens, which only multiplies your cuteness. You also have your Grandpa Russell’s cleft chin and slight dimple. And lest we forget, you have Papa’s ears… those little elf ears. I don’t think much of me got in there, but occasionally you’ll make an expression and it’s all Rachel, and I like that.

You made me a mother. You made Papa a father. We’re young and don’t really know what we’re doing…even now. You were meant for our family. We talked one night about how we were ready for kids, and the positive pregnancy test came a month later. We knew you were destined to be with us.

While I was in labor, the reoccurring thing that our nurse said was, “Wow, she has a great heartbeat!” You came slowly — deliberately — and though it took 24 hours (and it was the hardest 24 hours of my life), you came at your own pace. You came out quiet and happy, and that made Papa and I feel good, because we knew you trusted us, and felt safe. I’m not sure if I can explain the moment they put you on my tummy. It was one of those spiritual moments that words wouldn’t do justice to. What a great moment.

Little girl, you are our world. We absolutely adore you. Even when you are ornery, even when you are needy, even when you are stubborn. We love your big brown eyes, your cleft chin, your slight dimples, and your chubby belly. All of you. Thank you for lighting up our lives.