A year ago today Ginger was born! It was raining outside and our house felt like this little warm cave, quiet and full of love. It hurt to sit down on my metal dining room chairs and I was so tired, but also stunned by how good I felt, considering Iâd just been in labor and delivered a baby. I remember her pale white body swimming up from the birthing tub in the dark room. Everyoneâs faces and laughter, and the relief I felt--that the pain had stopped, that I had done it, Iâd had my baby. Here she was! I remember her squished-up little pug face. The way she held her arms and hands close to her chest, and her legs bent into herself. I remember her eyes which seemed to stare into my very heart. I remember thinking sheâd been on earth before, that she was an old soul. I remember my shallow sleep afterward, and Ginger in the bassinet at the foot of the bed. I remember going to wake up Bean and him asking me if I was still in labor. How he held her on the couch and said,âI love you already, Baba.â I remember craving ramen that first week, which is a food I never crave. I remember the milk coming in, how Iâd forgotten how cartoonish the milk-boobs look. I remember how sheâd cry for at least an hour every night, and how we didnât know how to make her stop, we didnât know what was wrong. When her belly button thing fell off I meant to save it, but it just stayed on top of the dresser like a huge booger until it dropped to the floor and was swept away, or maybe it disintegrated, I donât know.
Ginger was always so still and happy in the beginning. We joked sheâd never move. She liked to sit and twirl her wrists, and then eat, eat, eat. When she started crawling, she did it with one leg out, a little chimpanzee hustle. She still crawls like that. Once she turned mobile she got curious--opening everything, crying if you took away something dangerous. Finally some opinions! I remember taking the suede-boot cleaning spray from her and receiving a scream full of rage.
Her cheeks are almost always pink. Her hair is blonde and often sticks out in every direction. She used to moan with happiness when she ate, but now she just yells âmo mo moâ until you give her more of whatever it is sheâs consuming: milk, yogurt, lambchops. She is standing a lot, but careful about walking, and very deliberate.
And now she is one. She loves to get into everything, and dance, and blow kisses, and put things inside of other things. She says a few words even--mama, dada, raspberry (raspa!), agua. I canât help but be proud. She is a goofball, an expert hugger, a sly little observer. I canât believe I get to be her mother. Happy birthday, Ginger Dean Brown!
jbbartram-illu
2087
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
dededos
theartofmadeline
