Dear Daddy,
I know you've only been gone for two days, but it's a short trip and I want to make sure I write to you before you come home. See, Mama and Auntie C. had this great idea about me writing a blog to let you know all the things that happen while you're gone. This trip isn't so bad, 'cause it's only for three days. Mama says that you'll take other trips that will last for two or three months. I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure that's a long time.
We missed having you home on Saturday. Can you believe that it's been a whole month since I was born? It's gone by so fast. Mama says I've already changed so much, I don't look like a preemie anymore. She wishes that she took more pictures during the first few weeks, but isn't too hard on herself since things were so crazy. We took special birthday photos on Saturday to make up for it. I had a bath before we took pictures. I outgrew my little pink tub from the hospital, so we used my new big-girl tub and put it in the kitchen sink. We did great! I reclined on my little mesh hammock, and Mama had both hands free to wash me. Then she put me on a big soft blanket on the floor in the sunshine. I loved it! I didn't have one of those bulky, uncomfortable diapers on, and it was so nice and warm. I didn't fuss one little bit! Mama fussed a tiny bit when I peed. Okay, so I peed five times. Hey, when you're on a liquid diet, things process a little differently.
Mama's been really laid back about that stuff. Like yesterday, when I projectile-vomited all over her, she was totally cool. I don't really know what happened, there. I was having some nice awake time in her lap, we were making faces at each other, and then all of my milk came straight out of my mouth like a little mini fire-hose. It went all over the front of Mama's shirt, down her belly, and kinda' pooled at the top of her pants. She was super-quick and leaned me forward, making sure it was all out of my mouth so I didn't choke. Then, still holding me, she patted her shirt dry, wiped the milk out of her belly-button, and smiled. “Well...that was unexpected!” Then she mumbled something about laundry and stinky cheese, but by then I was half-asleep and not really listening.
Mostly we've done okay while you've been gone. I miss having awake time with you, and we both wish you were here for one of the late-night meals. Mama says “The late-late nights are the hardest. For the first five minutes that I'm awake, I re-live every negative feeling I've had during the last 12 hours. Every ounce of anxiety gets compounded and experienced all at once, all at 2 AM. I make my way down the stairs, praying to God that my feet don't falter. I have this insane fear of falling and crushing the baby, and it's made worse when I'm half lucid and on-edge. But then I sit down on the couch with Piper and she looks at me through sleepy eyes, rooting around until she finds her food. She expresses gratitude with contented little grunts and a hand wrapped around my finger. She finishes with a big-girl burp and a loud sigh of satisfaction as her milk-wet cheek rests on my shoulder. And suddenly, I wouldn't trade the late-night feeding for anything in the world.”
Well, Daddy, I guess I should go. It's almost time for me to eat again, and then we have to go to Target (can you believe I'm almost out of diaper wipes again?). Have a good time at work, and tell Uncle C. that I said thanks for taking you out for some “guy time” in NYC. You've earned it! Safe travels, Daddy, and I'll see you when you get home.
Love, Piper
P.S. – You know how you're always telling Mama not to drop food on me when we're both eating? Well, last night she dropped Rice-a-Roni on my arm and then said “Shh...Daddy will never know.” Please come home before she moves on to spaghetti with meatballs.
