On Love

I have loved a lot of things, and I have loved a few people along the way as well.

I love my mother, because she's my mother, and we are the best of friends.

I love my father, because he's my dad and he's wacky and we're quite a lot alike, and I appreciate his curious mind and the fact that he's usually willing to drop everything to help me out with whatever stupid problem I've got, as long as it's not too mushy in nature.

I love my brother, because I've only got the one sibling and he's a pretty neat guy. He's become a man I'm proud to know.

I love my grandmother, because she's awesome, quite simply. I have a pretty great family all around.

I of course love my husband, because I picked him. He is really quite loveable. We are on this trip together and he's my right-hand man.

And I love Rosie and Sasha, the dog and the cat. There was a time not long ago when Rosie was the baby of the family, and we showered her with it and spoiled her rotten. I loved Loki a whole lot too, as noted in the pages of this blog and on the tattoo on my arm. Loki was sort of my first-born, the first being I was ever solely responsible for.

Not to diminish the love I feel for any of the above people, who are all very important and all in my top ten, but I never really knew what 'love' meant until Nora came along.

Every day I go to bed thinking "well, I loved her more today than I did yesterday." I didn't think it possible but every day there's more. Often I look at her and think "whoops, there I go again" and I'm in deeper and deeper. I never knew what it was to love someone so much that you want to envelope them, to put them in your mouth and carry them around or something. She's like a part of my body, only cuter and I love her more. The intensity of my feelings makes me incredibly vulnerable, as now everything's got way heavier consequences. The pressure to do the best I can by her is immense. Everyone and everything else is getting the shaft because of the love I feel for this 13-pound little girl.

Sometimes she gives me the gears - today for example, she wanted to eat every two hours. It's exhausting but it makes her grow so I do it cheerfully. Over the Christmas celebrations of the past few days she was cranky as all get out, and wailed all evening long for a couple of nights there, including my big Christmas eve dinner. But I don't hold it against her - instead I worry about her wellbeing, and the dinner party can go to hell. I find most babies look kind of repellent when they cry but not Nora, I even find her beautiful when she's bawling. Today she scratched me up in the face with her sharp little talons but I didn't care, I just cheerfully clipped them next time I got a chance. My fault.

She has tiny feet that I love. I put them in my mouth whenever I can. I kiss the back of her neck just because it's warm in there and I can feel her whispy newborn hair tickle my nose. When I change her diaper, I always give her a kiss on the belly, because when her umbilical cord fell off on day seven, the most perfect little bellybutton formed under there. When I carry her to the bathtub I like to stop and take a look at her little butt in the mirror - it is so tiny it fits in my hand. She's the only person alive whose bare ass I like to put in my hand. It is the cutest ever. When she cries, I like to kiss her tears away, because they are warm and salty and they make me sad when they're on her face.

So there it is. I am raw. Sorry for the sentimental post but I am feeling the warm fuzzies tonight.

Now I will go to bed, and tomorrow I will love her even more.