THROUGH THEIR EYES

Gaby held Lucien in our living room and I stood by the record player, quietly watching a father and son interact.  Lou gazed up at his big bearded Papa.  You could feel the love in his eyes.  He wasn't just looking at his Papa, he was looking at the face of the familiar and the safe, the warm and the loving.  He had known that face since day one, and, to him, it was perfection.

Each morning, when I grumpily hope for just five more minutes of slumber, Biet jumps upon me and wedges herself under my arm, asking in a far-too-loud voice, "Mama, you awaaaaake?!". She sees not my red-rimmed, mascara-smeared eyes, nor the soft crinkles just beginning to crease my face.  She sees not the sprouts of postpartum hair regrowth sticking straight up on my forehead, nor my unshaven legs.  She sees not the imperfections, or as I've come to know them in my overly-critical and comparative adult life, my flaws.  She sees only Mama, her Mama, her everything.

It turns out that these children of ours, these utterly perfect children of ours, have a way of finding the perfection around them all of the time.  They see the world in a way that rises above stereotypes, judgement, and norms, and rests instead on pure insight and intuition.  They look at the world with great big eyes of wonder, and they are open to and accepting of it- to all that it is, and all that it is capable of becoming.  And when you think about it, that's kind of an incredibly healthy and inspiring way to be.

I know that if I can take a moment each day to try to see the world as they do, my world will become more beautiful.  If I can strive to focus on the perfection of the day to day things around me- the perfection of my tired eyes and crooked smile (those eyes are tired from growing and raising two beautiful human beings! That smile makes my children beam with happiness!) or my husband's salt and pepper hair (he's more and more handsome with age!), or the inevitable constant mess in our home (a well-lived-in home where there's always a project underway!), or the way that our bed always and forever smells like a dog (our beautiful Nico whom we love to the moon and back- we're lucky to call her a part of our family!)- well, I know that I'll begin to see everything more clearly.

These things don't bother our babies, and why should they? We have each other, we have our health, and we have a million things to make and adventures ahead of us.  My kids know that, and, when I let them remind me, I know that too.

And on this sunny morning, as I put on a record for my family, my boys reminded me of all this.

HAS IT BEEN TWO WEEKS ALREADY?

Why, yes it has.  Baby Lou is two weeks old.  Which means that I am two weeks postpartum.  Which means that I should probably put an end to my Ben & Jerry's habit (because really, I can no longer justify to myself that a pint a night is ok without the "well, I am pregnant" or "well, I did just have a baby" excuses) and get back to my green smoothies for dessert.  I should also probably change out of my housedress, do my hair, and introduce my son to his city.  My midwife advised me to rest up after my labor for two whole weeks.  No excuses, she told me.  And while I can't exactly say that keeping up with Biet has been restful, I  have managed to keep indoors for the most part.  The time inside has done me well; physically, I feel strong again, and mentally, I feel balanced.  Aside from the expected sleep deprivation and a mild case of cabin fever, I have few complaints.  I'm itching to take my plump  2-week-old and strong-willed 22-month old out on an adventure.  Please come quickly, springtime.

At two weeks of age, Lucien's favorite thing to do is to fall asleep on our chests.

From the moment he was born he seemed perfectly comfortable, both in his own skin as well as in our arms.  And in the past two weeks, I've watched him grow even more at home in our little apartment.  I remember how uncomfortable Biet was as a newborn- how she used to need tight swaddling and constant bouncing and stimulation of music and sights in order to be calm.  Lucien, on the other hand, has a certain serenity about him.  Often times he'll lay next to me, his deep blue eyes wide open, and simply gaze around.  His eyes are actually open quite a lot for such a tiny thing, seemingly always watching the goings-on in his world.  They slowly close when he lays across Gaby's chest for an afternoon nap.  Gaby's burly snore, which drives me crazy most nights, seems to be the perfect rumbling lullaby for our little boy.  And when my baby rests his head upon my chest at the end of the day and allows himself to be lulled to sleep by the rhythm my heart and breath, I find myself hoping that he'll never grow up.

OUR LITTLE BIG WORLD

I wake, and he is next to me.  Swaddled and snuggled against my breast, he sleeps.  Biet climbs upon the bed, haphazardly lunging over me to kiss her Papa, then her brother, then her Mama, and finally Nico, who she seeks out under the covers.  It is morning, I think.  Although it may be well past noon.  My eyelids are heavy, begging to close for just a little longer after having woken all throughout the night to tend to alternating babies.  Gaby reaches his arm over our family and rests it upon my head.  I turn to my love.  He looks exactly as I feel: happy, so happy, and utterly exhausted.  Biet strokes Lucien's head and kisses his tiny lips over and over, repeating "Hi baby! Hi baby!!" with ascending excitement.  I close my eyes for just a minute more, and when I open them the sun has changed through the windows, beaming stronger now across the walls.  Lucien nurses.  Gaby and Biet are gone, presumably dancing to the music streaming in from the living room.  I carry my son to the kitchen and open the fridge to see what I can quickly devour.  Nursing two leaves me starving pretty much all day.  Gaby takes the baby while I shower and cook, I rest in bed while he takes Biet and Nico out for a walk.  The laundry piles in the hamper, although we do manage to wash the dishes.  We snuggle a little, play a little, and eat a lot.  Suddenly it is nap time, then nighttime.  Just as one is on the brink of sleep, the other begins to wail.  As soon as that one is calm, the first one is up again and ready to play.  This goes on all through the night, or maybe it is only 9pm, its hard to tell.  Finally they are slumbering in peace, and we lay in silence and bliss. Lucien will need to eat soon, and Biet will be up and ready for breakfast in a few hours, but in this moment we have each other, and we rest.  Before we close our eyes, we talk.  We talk in hushed voices about his birth, about the past, and about our plans for the future.  We talk about this new adventure that we have embarked upon: parenting two. Since our son arrived one week ago, our world has more or less been flipped upside down.  All schedules have been trampled upon, and all expectations have been suspended.  Soon we will resume everyday life, but for now, this is all we need.  We do all we can to take care of each other, and we wait for  a new routine to evolve.  We are re-learning how to manage a family, this time with as many children as each of us has hands.  Balance will come, and it will be beautiful.  But for now, our world is this simple life inside of our apartment, taking everything moment by moment, one day at a time.  I know that a time this simple will not come again.  Soon Biet will have her own world of friends and school, and Lucien will begin his great journey of lifelong discovery.  But now- now all they need is their Mama and Papa, and each other, and this big world of family and food and rest and play inside of our little home.  Gaby and I lay side by side in the darkness, ever so grateful to have one another in these amazingly beautiful and trying times.  Soon our whispered conversation evolves into sleep-deprived delirious laughter.  We laugh and laugh.  These are the days, we say.  This is family.  This is love.

INTRODUCING LUCIEN