I can’t believe you are a month old. You change everyday growing and developing and yet, for me, you are becoming more familiar. I try to read your cries, detect any possible health issues or discomfort.
This evening, I confess, I freaked out completely. You have a cold (I think) and I was reading in to your symptoms and got your dad worked up too. We called Aunt Krista for advice and decided to stay here. Now you are fussy and acting more like your baby self, and we are waiting to take you to the doctor until tomorrow.
There is a documentary about Paul Simon’s Graceland album on PBS right now. Your dad and I were talking about how much we love this music and want to share it with you. He wants to dance with you. We are supposed to be calming you and getting you ready for bed. So I shoot him a disapproving look. Still I am rocking on the couch and I can’t resist singing:
And sometimes when I’m falling, flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Oh, so this is what she means
She means we’re bouncing into Graceland
I pray for patience and grace and the ability to take this all in stride. There is so much joy and love in this world and I can’t wait to share more with you.
I’ve tucked you into your crib, but on the baby monitor, I can hear you start to fuss again… I’ll save the rest for another day.
Love, Mama

One of my favourites of his – especially since becoming a parent – is ‘St. Judy’s Comet,’ about bedtime for someone a little older. Familiar tug-of-war between sleep and excitement to share wonder.