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Sunday, May 31, 2009

Two months

May 27, 2009

Dear Asa,

We're unfolding this month lovie, you and me both. Suddenly, we're mobile. We go to the store, and the post office. We're learning to run errands. We've even flown across the country! Your very first flight was this month, from Albany Ny to Los Angeles Ca. And I have to admit it, I was scared. I can hardly define the nervousness that I felt. I think I was visibly shaken when we got to our quiet local airport (one that we've flown out of many times, never ever having waited in one single line) to find a string of people down the entire length of the terminal. There were more people there at 5am on a Wednesday that I ever could have imagined. What's worse is that your dad wasn't even booked on our flight! He was scheduled to head out later in the day, meaning that you and I would have to tackle the whole day of travel by ourselves. With a 38 minute layover at Newark Airport. I felt uncertain, stressed and totally uptight. And you know what? It was all for nothing. You were a doll, and absolute joy.You smiled at doting flight attendants, slept more than half the way and barely made a peep. And we even got to fly with your dad, making it all the better. Having him to support me was what made the difference I think. Just knowing that he was on our team, ready to help us in any way that he could - glaring at nearby passengers if they made rude remarks, holding our hands during take off, digging through bags for pacifiers and diapers. We made it to LA together without any trouble at all.

Our time in LA was idyllic. We stayed a little over a week with Cynthia and her family and it was a dream. We often remarked that it was the perfect summer vacation. Lillian, now 5 and a half, played with neighborhood kids, Harry, one and a half, split his time between following his sister and his mom, and little Althea, just three weeks older than you, sat, smiled and slept happily by your side. What friends you will have in those kids and what joy I take in knowing that. Throughout most of my pregnancy I imagined this very scenario - sitting in the sunny back yard, sipping wine, chatting and laughing with one of my dearest friends in the world, while you lay happily beside me soaking in the sun with her youngest daughter. Two little babies and two happy mommies, passing the time exactly as they wanted. It was just perfect.

(Lillian)

(Harry and the watermelon)

(Althea and Asa)

Every day I watch you emerge, watch you unfold and stretch into yourself. Your eyes - still navy blue but now with a brighter ring around the pupil - focus on me clearly now. They catch me as I float across your field of vision, smiling down at you from this motherly height. There's a moment of concentration, a pause and a slight furrow of the brow, and then the synapses fire, the message clicks, and you realize it's me, mom, and the dreamiest smiles spread across your face. Mouth open wide, showing pink toothless gums, lips upturned at the corners, buried into sweet, round cheeks. It is a heavenly moment, a superb burst of joy every time.


You've been full of noises these past few weeks as well. Grunts, squeaks and squawks of all sorts. Short bursts of throaty groans, high pitched squeals, angry cries that get you so worked up you are snorting with frustration. Most of your noises are ones of happiness though, and you often look your dad and I right in the eye when you cackle and screech. Needless to say, we chatter right back. This early communication astounds me. You already have things to say, opinions to express and requests to make. I listen and wonder what you're thinking, wonder what this interaction means to you. I listen and I hang on every syllable.

(Strawberry blond boy)

Your personality is climbing out, letting it's presence be known and I see it. I see you in there. A little person, a little human being, unfurling his leaf-like limbs and joining the world. And I am here, unfolding myself, changing and adapting, learning and growing into the mother I want to be. Together we greet the wide, wide world.



Love,
mom

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Papa John's visit

Papa John's first visit to New York - what better reason to visit the Big Apple than the birth of your first grandson?

Laughing with Papa John


On our first hike


Smiling in his sleep



Laughing with dad


Asa plays now with Papa John, the two of them quite interested in one another. They smile and laugh together as I sip my coffee and look over the photos from the last week.

What a treat it is to have my dad in town. It feels me with unimaginable pride to introduce my father to my son and to watch them spend the first of many, many happy moments together.

Monday, April 27, 2009

One month

(As much as I love this idea I cannot claim as my own - I totally copied it from Dooce.com Ever since I first saw her blog I loved that she wrote her daughter a letter every month to tell her what she's been up to and what life was like for those four weeks. Now that Asa is here I feel more than ever that I want to be in the moment with him, that I want to remember every smile, every diaper, every precious second that I hold him to me. I have raced through most of my life thus far. Speeding through childhood to be a teenager then skipping that unceremoniously for the wild world of adulthood. I've rushed relationships, jobs, even this pregnancy. And now, now I want to slow it all down. Now I want to be there, truly be there, for every moment I can. So, that is why I'm going to white letters too, every month to my son. Starting now, with month number one)



Dear Asa,

Asa. Asa, Asa. Your name is still so new, so foreign on my tongue. And yet it slips out of my mouth as if lived there for ever. Much like you - your warm body, your searching eyes, your lips that just learned to smile. It's all so brand new, so novel, so fresh. And yet some part of you has lived in my soul for as long as I can remember. It's as if my heart has been holding a space for you for all of my twenty-four years, reserving the most special of chambers for the immense quantities of love that I have for you. It is a chamber without walls, for my heart swells to infinite proportions to encompass this love, to hold all that you are within it.



You are one month old today, already so very big. 8.5 lbs big, 20.25 inches big. A mighty little man. This month has been one of small miracles that feel larger than life. Just over four weeks ago I thought I was doomed to be pregnant forever, each morning waking up, feeling larger than when I fell asleep. Each day waiting for some pang, some sign that you were coming, that you were on your way. And then one night it just happened. A tightening of the stomach, an aching of the abdomen in rhythmic waves. A pressure in my belly. Contractions. 10 pm they began on March 26th, your due date. We stayed at home as long as possible as I waited for them to progress. I was in and out of the bath, sipping wine, walking our halls and gripping bed posts as your father diligently counted the minutes and seconds. "OK!" I'd shout from down the hall. He'd watch the clock as I breathed heavily, not in pain truly but struggling through this very new sensation none the less, until I sighed with relief "It's done". At 3am we called the midwife and headed to the birth center. This was it, we were on our way, and so were you. We drove in the dark silence of early morning that is more like the middle of the night. I continued to breathe and found it hard to do anything but as the contractions washed over me in waves that were increasingly close together. Your father managed to get us there in less than 40 minutes - usually a nearly hour long drive. And it's a good thing he did too. When the nurse checked me at the birth center I was already 9 cm dilated and closing in on 10. Fast. I gripped the rails of the bed as the nurse prepared the room for delivery. I was in such an altered state at this point, so far beyond the realms of reality, that I was hardly aware of her movements, or anyone else's for that matter. I hit a wall and had to push, I was conscious of nothing except your father's voice and Julie, the midwife. The most intense sensations I could ever fathom, somewhere near pain, bordering on unbearable and most certainly out of this world, I breathed and breathed and pushed and pushed. Before I knew it I was aware of your little body moving through me, slipping out of your warm cocoon and into this world. Three pushes and you rushed right in, no time for waiting - you were here! Fifty-five minutes after arriving at the hospital your life outside the womb had begun. March 27th, 2009. Complete and utter awe ensued. And continues to this very moment.



You father rocks you gently beside me. Your eyelids slide slowly over your still blue eyes (I wonder what color they will be?). You are happy, sleepy, peaceful in your dad's embrace. I fall in love with him all over again watching him become your protector, your teacher, your guide. His love for you is palpable. It emanates from him in waves, shimmering in that darkness as he keeps me company during the 4am feeding, radiating in the sunshine as he changes your diaper for the third time in as many minutes. His devotion is complete. He is father. He is dad. And he is yours.



I thank you today, for choosing me to be your mother. I have never been so honored, so blessed in such a thing. I accept this challenge with every bit of me, every scrap of my being. I promise to love you wholly and truly without exception, without question. I promise to give you all that I can, all that I have. I promise to improve myself for your benefit, I promise to be everything that I can, to help you to be everything that you are.



You are new, and so am I, so is this mother that I have become. Every day is one more under the belt, one more a shared experience of learning. And every day I am more certain of this new role I have accepted.

Love,
Mom

Thursday, April 23, 2009

First hiccups (outside of the womb)

From about 6 months on during my pregnancy Asa had the hiccups at least once a day. Turns out that doesn't change much after delivery. He still gets the hiccups at least once a day. They don't seem to bother him much, and they still make be giggle.


Asa's first hiccups from lichen richardson on Vimeo.

Monday, April 6, 2009

First days home

We are home. With our son. OUR SON. That is an incredible statement. One that continues to fill me with wonder and joy.


Watching my husband become a father is one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful things I could imagine.

This week we have four generations in this house.
Aunt
Grandmother
Great-Grandmother


At least 500 times a day I pinch myself. Can this be real? Can I be this lucky, this blessed? Then I look into my son's navy blue eyes and know that I'm not dreaming.


Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Our son is here

Asa Allen Murray Richardson
March 27, 2009 4:55 am
7lbs 11oz 20 inches long

I am still (and imagine I will forever be) overwhelmed with love and joy. My heart swells to infinite proportions as I gaze into the eyes of my son. So this is heaven....



Last photo of his first home

Moments after birth
Father and son

Taking in the world

Snacking

Big yawns for the little man


Life with mom and dad

Monday, March 23, 2009

Proof

I somehow managed to paint my toenails last week - I still can't really believe the laws of physics would allow. But here you have it, undeniable proof!

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