MOTHER'S LOVE 101

Our beloved daughter has passed the three week mark. That means we've now been parents for the same amount of time. Woo hoo! During this last week, VanNestle has surely put on more delicious baby weight. Her dad very scientifically weighed her (stood on the bathroom scale holding her, then again after he put her down) and declared her to be over nine pounds now. Eat, girl, eat! Of course she was officially due just a few days ago, so we knew she was on the scrawny side of things when she was vacuumed out. She's still long and lean, but made of solid lead.

This week we also caught her rooting around and ultimately locating her thumb as a handy pacifier. Is thumb-sucking frowned upon? We were delighted with her discovery!

Daddio and I have been trying to get a day and night routine down. We thought Vanessa had a newborn "fussy" period every evening between 9 pm and 11 pm. During these times we discovered VH1 loves her Daddy's soft lullabyes - especially when he customizes the words to Little Surfer Girl for her. I blamed abdominal gas, which is one of only two reasons for her to cry. Jack wondered if she might be colicky, but, when I read up on colic, I learned that it has absolutely nothing to do with gas. Colic is thought to be a raw nervous system issue and is diagnosed when a baby cries 3 or more hours at a time, 3 or more times per week. Well, Vanessa cries for 5 to 10 minutes at a time, so she's not colicky.

It turns out Nessa has been crying in the evening for the other of the two reasons - hunger. I found that if I pick up on her rooting behavior, rather than watch the clock or wait for her to cry, I find I can feed her hungry self before she has a melt down. I consider this to be an important step in my development as a parent. My nursing mantra has been driven by two statements made by baby experts (and our pediatricians and lactation specialist): "Unrestricted access to the breast makes for a healthy, well adjusted baby," and "You can't overfeed a baby on breast milk."

So My Little Monkey Princess has been drinking long and often. I can't help but think she's adorable as she fills her belly to capacity, then just drops off in a milk coma at the breast, looking rather like a drunken sailor with his head down on the bar.

Although it's hard to not think I am the only mother who is crazy in love with her newborn, I do find myself marveling at how powerful this motherhood thing is. In fact I look over at my own mother, who is often holding Nessa, and think, "There's no way she loved me this much. Has anyone loved me this much?" Then I see my own mother's love in action - holding Vanessa, helping around the house, praying her rosary every single day for Vanessa for five years, and coming to Jack's and my rescue this summer when I was released from the hospital and could barely walk, let alone eat. Hmmm. I can't handle the thought of my daughter being uncomfortable with a burp trapped in her belly - how was it for my mother to see her daughter struggle with cancer and maybe not be able to have children?

I hold Vanessa on my chest as she sleeps with her ear to the familiar rhythm of my heartbeat and respirations and I think, "This is really true. She's really ours!" Then of course that doesn't feel right. She is God's - Jack and I have been entrusted with her care. Boo hoo hoo! I'm so thankful we've been given this honor. I just hope we don't screw it up too badly.