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You smiled today, my sweet girl! Your first real smile, and of course it was because of your father. Apparently him blowing tiny raspberry kisses on your belly is the funniest thing.
We were obsessed with watching you. I don’t think I understood or experienced true joy until that moment. Sure, I’ve been happy, in love, and excited before… But until that first smile of yours, I can’t remember a time I felt that level of profound emotion.
You’re incredible.
Also, please stop scratching my breasts when you nurse. I love you, but that hurts.
Love,
Mama
4/20
Two months old and the doctor confirmed our suspicions today: you are perfect. You’re extra perfect because you slept for seven hours straight at night, and then took a three hour nap in the afternoon. Well, we took a three hour nap in the afternoon, so thanks for that. Mama needed it.
You’ve been eating so well lately, and it looks like your father and I have a routine down. At night, if you wake up, he changes your diaper and brings you to me and I feed you, then he takes you back and rocks you to sleep.
I don’t know what I would do without him, Angela.
Love,
Mama
4/30
You rolled over today my strong girl! It took us by surprise but we stopped everything we were doing to watch you. I was so happy your father was home from work to catch it. He was the one who alerted me. “She’s going to do it, Zo!” he hollered. It was like watching the finale of a TV show or a tied game being battled to a nail-biting finish.
And we saw it. We watched you take your first roll from tummy to back like the champion you are.
I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl.
Love,
Your cheerleader, Mama.
I read dozens more journal entries over the next hour as Cora got her massage. All of them are similar and yet unique. My first this, my first that. More gushing about my dad and how tired but happy she is.
Her words ruminate as I lay on the massage table and wait for Marco to enter the room. I’ve had several with him over the last six months or so and that man is talented. What’s even better is this table having a cutout for my belly so I can lay face down. What a luxury that is these days.
At my request, Cora sits in the chair in the corner of the tranquil room as Marco starts to dig his fingers into my stressed back.
“Maybe moving out isn’t the right thing,” I tell her while staring at the floor with my head in the padded cradle.
“Why’s that?” she asks.
“I was just reading my mom’s journal, and I’m afraid if we live apart, both of us are going to miss out on those special first moments, you know?” What I don’t voice is how painful it would be to miss out on those firsts. How painful it would be to witness those firsts and know Raf isn’t there to see them, too.
If we can just get back to the way things were before I got pregnant. Before the arrangement. Before the confessions.
How can I erase mine? How can I forget his?
“So, what does that mean for you and Raf?” Marco asks, pushing his thumbs into my neck.
“It means I need to set clear boundaries. Maybe in a more rational and less emotional way than what happened last night,” I mutter. At that, the twins start kickboxing, making me giggle. “Or maybe not. These two seem to like the theatrics.”
“Speaking of theatrics,” Cora says. “Jay’s mom, Kathleen, showed me the invite list to our combined baby shower, and it’s huge, Ang. She rented out a country club for this.”
“Does she know what kind of buffoons rugby players are? That seems far too nice for the likes of us.”
