Dear Olive

Dear Olive,
As I’m typing this, you are sleeping so soundly on my chest, and I keep bending down to smell your warm baby scent and kiss your sweet forehead. You’ve been fussy this morning, and I’m happy for the excuse to drop everything else to snuggle my beautiful baby girl. Last night, I was struck by how much you have already changed since your birth. You’re just over five weeks old, and you’ve already gained over two pounds. Your little cheeks are full and round. Your lips form a perfect pink Cupid’s bow. Your eyes are the same sparkly blue as your dad’s, And Auntie Brie says you have “baby bird hair.” (Which, incidentally, is her favorite kind of baby hair.) You’re stunning, and I made your dad take pictures last night as you slept because I never want to forget how you looked at that very moment in your yellow giraffe pajamas. The love I feel for you is overwhelming at times.

I read an article yesterday that said people shouldn’t compliment little girls on physical attributes or tell them often that they are “beautiful” or “cute.” The reasoning is that they will be hard-wired to focus on looks from early on. The trouble is, Olive, you are already so gorgeous, people can’t help but notice and say so. I hope you aren’t plagued by the insecurities many girls seem to battle through adolescence and beyond… God knows I did. I think it took meeting your dad for me to finally feel comfortable in my own skin, because his love for me just as I was made it possible to stop nit-picking every little thing I didn’t like about myself, and change hopefully for the better. That’s not to say that I never self-criticize, but I hope someday you find someone who loves you for exactly who you are (other than your dad and me, of course).

But for now, you’re still my little baby. When I think of your future, I feel hopeful and excited for all that’s ahead of you. There is also a slight sadness that pulls deep in my stomach, because you won’t always be my tiny baby who wants nothing more than to be cuddled on my chest sleeping as you are right now. You’re already growing so fast. Today, when I went to change you, my favorite newborn outfit was too small, and I had to choose something else. It almost made me cry. Almost…

It’s hard for me to imagine that by the time you can read this, I’ll love you even more than I do right now. You are stretching, blinking, and trying to battle your way out of your nap, so I’d better wrap this up. I love you forever and always, my Olive.
-Mom