Juliette Joanne Gawthroupe

Juliette Joanne Gawthroupe
June 15 2012, 3:27 am
7 pounds, 14 ounces, 20 inches
The most beautiful, perfect little baby girl ever born.

She loves to be right near me.  I never remember feeling that a baby so thoroughly missed being a part of me.  Her every cry is eased by snuggling up in my arms, up into the crook of my neck.  If she is awake, she longs for the nearness of nursing.  In order to sleep, she only needs my gentle mother's scent hovering inches away.

Her tiny delicate features are the epitome of femininity.  Her small dainty lips sit perfectly beneath her deep, hazy blue eyes.  Her fingernails are slender and long without needing trimming.  Her dark hair is so soft a simile evades me - I can only think that other things in this world could be measured against the standard of the softness of her hair.

I want to hold her.  I do not have a desire to put her down, or give her to someone else to hold.  If there are tasks to be done, I long to do them with her snuggled against me in a sling, carrying her as though she were still physically a part of me.

I bask in the memory of those first hours with her at the hospital.  The very idea that I can look down into a face that is mere hours old, especially before that first day passes, is astonishing.  Even in this first week, I remember that it is the only time in her life that her life will be measured in simple days, not weeks, months or even years.  Her newness is so precious.

My little baby girl.  As we curl up together in bed, I am content to simply lie here beside her on top of the softness of my bedsheets and just be together.