There’s a lot that you forget about having newborns, I think, no matter how recent your last baby came along. Since you spend most of their infancy in a hazy fog of sleep deprivation, I suppose that makes sense. For me, one thing I forgot is the smell. When I walk into the residential wing of our house (ha, didn’t I just make it sound like my house is enormous? It’s not), I walk into a wall of this smell. Newborn babies smell like … warm pooh. I’m not sure how it is that the pooh smell is warm, exactly, but it is. It permeates the very walls of the rooms. Breathe it in, because no matter what you do, there will always be more warm pooh. I’m just happy that the weather is good enough to keep all the windows open.
The other thing I forgot is the rapturous joy that comes with baby’s first smile. It is such a beautiful thing, to see your little one’s face light up with recognition and love; it’s as if they’ve only just discovered happiness for the first time in life. E is a serious little girl, and approaches most of life’s challenges with a furrowed brow. She doesn’t just throw smiles around, that one. So when she finally graced me with a grin, well, all the trauma and pain and blood and lack of sleep and warm pooh smells, it is all worth it. How is it that they do that?
I also firmly believe that newborns have preferred music, although I’m not quite sure how they decide this. X, for instance, was all about Bruno Mars, played very loud while being rocked and swung around rather aggressively. E, though, is all about the country. Alan Jackson to be exact. Nothing calms her down like a good two-step. I like to think it’s because even though she’s born and raised in Switzerland, she has ingrained memory of where her family comes from. All this two-stepping is making miss Stampede. Continue reading