Dear Dannica,
As the leaves shed during autumn and the days give way to
the rain and chill of winter, it becomes an emotionally tough time for me. During
Thanksgiving week in November, halfway through your fourth month, Mommy kisses
you goodbye every weekday morning to return to work. It’s discombobulating to mentally
shift gears from becoming an expert at translating your cries to your needs,
entertaining you, and nursing you at any leisure time, to being re-immersed into
the world of work, in a big building filled with other people speaking a litany
of different languages, dragging along my pump and parts and carving out time
in the day to make milk for you.
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| Pumping in the sparse New Mother's Room at work |
My days are no longer punctuated with your cries; I have the
liberty to go to the bathroom without watching you flail your limbs and call
for me from the bed; I could eat with both hands and not have to wolf down a
meal and a drink for enough energy to tend to you. And yet I miss the smell of
your Johnson & Johnson shampoo, how you’d look up and smile your gummy
smile at me, the feel of your weighty body in my arms, the softness of your
hair that I’d stroke so often.
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| Last picture of our time together before first day back at work |
My heartache at being apart from you is mitigated by Daddy’s
paternity leave; I know he is taking good care of his little girl and often
sends me pictures to ease my longing. He even brings you by on Wednesdays when
we could enjoy a meal out together near Mommy’s workplace.
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| With Daddy at home |
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| Lunch date with Mommy at Fugetsu |
Daddy drives you to visit Grandma and Great-Grandma so they
could see you more often.
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| With Great-Grandma, who always loves to hold you |
This month, your giggles are getting more pronounced, and
you know when we are trying to make you laugh. You start splashing quite a bit
in your bath tub. We enjoy Thanksgiving feasts together with Noi’s and Ngoai’s
side of the family.
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| Feast at Noi's house |
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| Chilling with Ngoai |
You are becoming interested in toys, which Luc insists are
all his and that he is lending them to you.
We attended your cousin’s birthday party.
We went to BYTON Night at Mommy’s company, where you and Luc
learned about how electric vehicles are made.
We also went to the German Holiday Market, where you mainly slept
on Daddy and Luc had a better time looking around.
You are very observant of us when we eat and would mimic
our chewing. I gave you a first taste of avocado with breast milk. You are not
too keen on solid foods yet, but next month we will introduce you to more.
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| First solids: avocado mashed with breast milk |
As Christmas approaches, we ready our tree, the first time
we got a Noble Fir, veering from our usual Douglas Fir in honor of the special
year you’ve joined us.
Mommy bought a ticket to the Vasona Park lights show, where
the entire park is decked out with holiday lights and we could drive through it
in the warmth and comfort of our Subaru.
To get there, we drove through the city
of Los Gatos where we buried your sister Thi. I thought about the last time we visited Thi, back when the days
were long and summer stretched before us, before you were even born. It’s been
too long since I came to her last. She is air and clouds and sky, while you are
flesh and blood and bones, a weighty realness within arms’ reach of me. I
reminded Luc of the last visit when we got her flowers for her grave. He
babbled on about flowers for a while as I said a mental hello to the baby girl
whom I love and miss so much, especially every winter. I slipped my fingers in
your tightly closed fists, watching you tucked under a fluffy pink blanket
and sleeping comfortably. I held you just a little tighter that night as the
cold winter air slipped through the car’s open windows and across our skin, and
the park enrobed us in a surreal medley of colorful lights and holiday songs.
Soon, dear Dannica. Soon it will be Christmas Day.
Soon, dear Dannica. Soon it will be Christmas Day.
