As I type this, Maia’s lying in my arms, awake but resting. Her eyes are open wide and she is just looking at everything, absorbing it; when I look down (between every word), I wonder what she’s thinking about. Her little face is so expressive — her lips purse in comtemplation, curve into a proto-smile, and open into a little O of wonderment. She is especially interested in the contrast of my black bra against my (disturbingly) white skin. She’s so peaceful.
In one week, she’s changed so much. We all have. She’s more aware, and is losing all the funny misshapen characteristics of a brand-new baby. Her face is softer, more oval now and less of a block. I love to stroke her cheeks with the back of my finger. Her eyebrows have darkened and her eyelashes are more prominent. I have always loved Chris’ lashes, and hope she ends up with them.
Babcia left about 30 minutes ago, and it was difficult to say goodbye. I know we’ll be seeing her in a few months, but it’s still difficult to watch my mom leave.
What was I even doing two weeks ago, without Maia here?
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