Happy one month birthday!
Before you were born everyone told us, “Time will fly by all too fast so you better enjoy them while they’re little” and for once, all the unsolicited advice was correct. I can’t BELIEVE you’ve been here for a month already – that’s the entire lifespan of a fruit fly!! Regardless of how brief the last thirty days have seemed, they have packed a serious punch, like a dwarven version of Mike Tyson. Now, not to sound like a decrepit old woman already but it really does seem like only yesterday that I was still massively pregnant and begging you to evacuate the premises……..
I’ll be honest, this has been a pretty intense month with you so far. At everyone’s (unwanted) suggestions, we were bracing ourselves for the worst ( The Antichrist) but thankfully you’re not even close to as difficult as we were expecting (you’re only about as bad as The Pope) but it’s still FULL THROTTLE. Sleeping is certainly not the thirteen straight hours we were used to but we’re still functioning with the every 3 hour feeding schedule you’ve so politely mapped out for us and are THRILLED that you’re on any kind of a consistent schedule at all. The first night we had you home with us was insane; it was like The Three Stooges Have a Baby. We were clueless idiots bumbling around with you all night while you were up for 6 hours straight tag teaming us. After the first night spent inside Dante’s Inferno we were definitely bleary-eyed, sleep deprived and wondering what exactly we had signed up for. Top to bottom, feeding you has been the most challenging part for us as you both are very thirsty Schrute babies (Dwight K) but everyday is getting better, easier and less painful for my poor mammaries. John’s nipples seem to be doing fine; he claims to have taken an intensive 12 hour internet boot camp on milk-tating dads.
Both your Grandmas left two weeks ago so we are now fully on our own with you and it was pretty scary at first. When you cried we felt like chimps trying to disengage an A-Bomb, slapping at random buttons hoping it would shut off. The first couple days at home with you alone by myself (while your dad was at work) were pretty hard but the more I get to know your separate little personalities and bends, the easier it gets.
Rory, at this point in your life: you love sleeping on your stomach (much to my and the AMA’s discomfort), hate having your diaper changed, want to be fed the moment you open your eyes, snore while you sleep, grunt while you eat, constantly want to be snuggled and look just like your dad. I wouldn’t go so far as to outright call you a fussy baby but you’re definitely tipping the scale in that direction. Hey…speaking of scales……you are a seriously stout little man at 10 lbs 6 oz and 22″ long. Coincidentally, you are the exact dimensions as an Irish lager and hold the same physical attributes: tall and pale. Your dad and I frequently refer to you as Meatloaf, Cinder Block or Ham Steak and play Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who gets to lug you around in the Moby wrap. Don’t get us wrong, we LOVE to carry you with us but in our own self interest and the safety of our lower backs we have to trade you off from time to time and take mandatory 15 minute breaks.
Quinn, at this stage you are our calm baby. You like to sit in your little lamb chair and just look around, smile while you sleep, love to have baths and are mesmerized by lights. You are awake much more frequently but are very self content – although when you do get mad you scream very loud and kind of sound like a dying bobcat. You are also getting much bigger in your own right at 8lbs 11oz and 20.5″ long but do not pack the heavy punch that Rory does, as a little lady you are much more dainty…ironically, you have more chins than a Chinese phone book. The bigger you get the more you look like me (although at a whopping 9lbs 8oz you still don’t weigh as much as I did at birth) and you definitely have my/your Grandpa Wade’s eyes and eyelashes. Right now our nicknames for you are Quinnie Pig, The Pig, Bobcat and Voldemort….because sometimes, when you’re swaddled and have a hood on you do sort of resemble The Dark Lord from Harry Potter Book 1 (also known as Harry Potter and the Sorcerors Stone OR as it is referred to in England, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone). Yes, we are nerds, you’ll have to live with it. The other day while you were taking a nap next to me on the couch you woke up, looked right at me, smiled and put your hand on my face. I don’t think it gets much better than that.
Has parenting been everything we were hoping it would be? YES and more. Has it been as difficult as we were anticipating? NO thank goodness. Can we imagine a life without you? NO…but maybe an evening…We both are so incredibly blessed to have you. Two years ago when your dad got cancer we thought it was the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to us and we were afraid that we’d never be able to have children. Two years later, it was directly BECAUSE of that terrible and wonderful diagnoses that we ended up having twins. Because of cancer, you are here. Everyone tells us that God can take muddy circumstances and turn them into something gold. Now, with absolute certainty, we can both say that every sleepless night, dirty diaper and high frequency scream was worth every moment of chemotherapy.
We’re excited to meet you and talk to you when you’re finally old enough to read this…and for the day that you do: remember to just sit back and relax. Right now you’re in the other room sobbing because you’ve dropped your pacifier. Remember, things only get easier.
-mom and dad.