December 29, 2009
December 8, 2009
December 1, 2009
September 8, 2009
Morning with Lucy
At around 6:30, 7 a.m., I was dragged out of sleep by gurgling cooing sounds from the next room. I thought I heard Jean getting Lucy, so I went back to sleep. Maybe 15 minutes later, the constant morning chatter by the almost 4 month old woke me up again. I got up and walked into the nursery. There Lucy lay, in all her glory, in her crib. She wore onesie pajamas (the nights have been chilly) with little yellow ducks all over them. Her eyes were wide open. She had her legs in the air and her fat hands were clutching her own feet. She was DEEP in conversation with herself. She's figuring it out now. You take a deep breath, get the air going in your lungs, and exhale, making sounds. Good job, Lucy. Yes, this is what we humans do. We make sounds like that. She babbled away, fascinated by her own feet in her hands. I stood there with her for a long time, and we had a nice chat. Lucy would make eye contact, briefly, checking in with me, before she continued on with her monologue. I rubbed her belly and she appeared to tell me she liked that. Sometimes I would catch a small dimple appearing in her right cheek, and her eyes would smile. A miracle. A baby understanding pleasure, joy, and being happy to be awake and loving to have a conversation. She was completely content. No fussing. Just chatter. The rest of the house was silent. I finally reached into the crib and picked her up. Lucy loves to look over her right shoulder. Looking over the left shoulder is really not interesting to her, even if what is more interesting is over THERE. So you kind of have to maneuver yourself around, so Lucy can look over the shoulder SHE prefers. I sat with her in the rocking chair. Lucy was chewing away on her pacifier, staring around her, whipping her head around so she could look over her RIGHT shoulder. Because why on earth would ANYONE want to look over their LEFT shoulder? How boring is that? I sang her some songs (Bob Gibson, if you must know - "This Train is Bound for Glory") and her whole body went still, her eyes going inward and quiet, as she listened. It was hysterical. Like; Oh, something different is happening now ... I must pay attention with my WHOLE BODY. Her wrists are so fat that it is difficult to look at them without eating them up. Here is a photo of Lucy's arm, taken by her father.
Sometimes I held her so she was standing up on my thighs. She seems to enjoy doing deep knee-bends, making some huge chattering comment as she lifts herself up. She's like a body-builder that way. Doing it all on the exhale. She seems so little, yet at the same time, I remember her when she was born, and I am amazed at how big she is now. Cashel spent a lot of time with Lucy this summer, his first cousin, and he said to his mother when he came home, "I under-estimated the cuteness of Lucy." Don't we all. I moved us into the living room and we lay on the couch together. Lucy liked to look around, and sometimes the pacifier got in the way of some big philosophical statement she was yearning to make, so I would take the pacifier out, and suddenly she would pour forth her theories on life. I agreed with all the points she made. She doesn't really like to sit on my lap staring out, because it seems like it is too much like being a masthead on a ship - hovering out on the brink of an abyss. Much better to sit on one thigh, facing sideways, so that you can look up at the person who is holding you, and speak, if you feel like speaking. Or just check her out. Hm. Who is this nice lady? But now I have to stare over my right shoulder, because obviously the most important things are happening over THERE. Of course they are. Who am I to dissuade you from that viewpoint?
Her head smells so good.
I enjoyed our conversation, Lucy. I can't wait to see what you say next.
August 17, 2009
May 26, 2009
On the Block Island ferry
... with Cashel.
Thoughts swirl through my head.
1. Wow. I miss my pimp coat.
2. Cashel was so little!!!
3. But in Lucy terms, he looks so big. Will she ever be that big?
How will my heart stand it??
May 20, 2009
So far, in her 5 days of life, it has become clear that Lucy likes:
-- Pat and Jean's leather couch
-- the glider
-- her buzzing chair
-- 3/4 time (my sister Siobhan has already been commissioned by my mother to write a Lucy Anne Waltz)
How can I be missing all of this??
May 19, 2009
A blessing
This was Lucy's "going-home" outfit. The love and care put into every "stitch", the time we have spent oohing and ahhing over the outfit and my mother's artistry, how excited and impatient we have been - waiting for "her" (even though we didn't know she was a her!) to arrive ... It seems a miracle that a body has now WORN those itsy-bitsy clothes ... but I know it's true, I saw the pictures!
It's hard to concentrate on anything else in life now that Lucy is here.
She is four days old today.
May 17, 2009
We love Lucy
On September 20, 2008, my sister Jean married Pat, a wonderful man. It was the most intense day for anyone who was present. I was telling a new friend that it was the kind of day where Love comes at you undiluted, in its purest form. Almost deadly. Most of the time, the Love we receive is a little bit watered down, makes it easier to bear. September 20 was about a Love that was like staring directly at the sun.
On May 15, 2009, two days ago, Jean and Pat welcomed into the world a gorgeous puffy-cheeked little girl whose name is Lucy Anne. My mother, my sister, me, Pat's parents and sister ... all sat out in the waiting room, pacing, texting, or (like me, my mother and my sister on occasion) sleeping standing up. It had been a long long day. Finally, from down the hall, we heard the wail. The wail of life. Lucy's life beginning.
Jean and Pat didn't find out ahead of time if it was a boy or a girl. When Pat finally came out, tears in his eyes, to tell us the news, we all started hugging, and crying, and I glanced over at Pat's mother at one point, and she was literally jumping up and down and clapping.
And so again. Undiluted Love, like staring into the sun.
We love Lucy so much. We are so present to the gifts of life, the gifts of God. We feel our angels watching over us. We missed having Brendan and Cashel and Melody with us.
I texted my cousin Kerry after the baby was born - saying, "Lucy Anne!"
30 seconds later, my mother's cell phone rang and it was my uncle Tony, Kerry's father, saying, "Congratulations on the arrival of Lucy Anne!" It's curious that some people find modern technology to be cold, or alienating, or that it somehow keeps people from being connected. I'm not sure what technologies THOSE people are talking about, but the ones I am aware of KEEP us connected. I got 40 messages alone on Facebook from cousins, friends ... people who live far away ... sending love, prayers, best wishes, and then - when Lucy arrived - begging for photos. We are not alone. We are connected to one another.
My cousin Kathleen emailed me after I sent her a picture. "Tears of joy are streaming down my face," she wrote.
There are angels everywhere. In heaven and on earth. The last year has been harrowing for my family. But all along ... Lucy has been growing, developing, getting ready to come out and join the family.
Jean is doing great. Pat is doing great. I am so proud of both of them. It has not been easy. Today, Jean gets to go home. Lucy is beyond awesome. We spent the last 24 hours just hovering over her, staring at her. All she was doing was sleeping. But it was the most riveting sight we've ever seen.
O, wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in't!
Welcome to the world, Lucy Anne.