One Month

She likes looking at the light that comes through the cracks of blinds, and glows around the edges of window curtains.

She likes staring at the twinkle lights, too (she will love Christmas).

She hates having her onesies removed

because she loves to be warm and cozy.

She sleeps best on her tummy, laying on mom’s chest after eating.

She calms down when dad bounces her up and down

as he walks around the living room.

She calms down when her carrier starts to sway and move

and as a result she loves walks.

She calms down when she feels the breeze through the car windows.

She likes watching the movement of the street going by in the car seat mirror.

She likes to stare into space and wiggle—

wiggle, wiggle, wiggle—when laying on her back in her crib, bassinet, on the couch

and make little noises as her arms and legs pump up and down.

When I place her on my breast

I delicately take her soft small head between my palms

and position her correctly

Her skin is so soft and her face is sweet as pie

At the start of eating her eyes are big and bright, her small mouth becomes a little O but with a slight smile, like she’s excited

With open mouth she bobs up and down a bit

practicing her neck control

before latching on tightly

looking up, staring ahead, brow raised so that

many lines stack on her forehead

and I wonder what she thinks about as her reflex to eat takes over

and what her thoughts look like

As the feed goes on her

eyes droop

her thoughts drift

and her neck muscles give way so that

the full weight of her cheek rests in

my guiding hand

She pulls away and puckers her lips in a sideways twist that always makes me smile

and kerplunks her head on my chest

Ear against my heart, my lungs

so that all she hears is thumping and whooshing

like she’s back inside me again

Her mouth falls open in a milk drunk stupor

and our chests rise together

and her little hands caress my skin, her tiny nails scratching me slightly

and I kiss the top of her soft sweet head with her soft down hair

and place my hand on her back

and feel the spine and ribs that were formed inside me, that I pushed out

and now she’s here

She coos and readjusts in her sleep

Dark eyes suddenly open wide, full of sparkles like a night sky, reflections of the lights she loves to look at

A full body yawn and an appearance of a little pink tongue

A cry of frustration as she tries to latch again

She turns her head so I can see her soft pliable perfect seashell ear

and I whisper to her how much I love her

And after latching like a magnet

she’s out

And together we breathe and rest