Dear Coura

Dear Coura Bear,

I think my first words to you weren’t exactly words, but sighs of joy, admiration and relief. I eventually looked up to your dad, breathless and euphoric, saying, “Oh my God, I can’t believe she’s here. She’s so perfect.”

Your birth day was a mix of blurry moments and vivid ones that are stamped safely in my memory. When we first met I remember seeing the tiny pink hemangioma on your middle toe. I love that it still makes an appearance when your bitesize feet pop out of the Solly wrap or the car seat; it’s uniquely you.  

You were covered in thick vernix and your face was all scrunched up. Your beautiful, plump lips were hard to ignore, mushed together sideways like they were too tired to match up just right. You had long curling eyelashes that people would pay a lot of money for and the softest part of your skin was the inside crease of your elbow. It felt just like butta.

Your blue-ish kind eyes, one just slightly bigger than the other, are brightening by the day. You squirm and stretch and grunt your way through the wee hours of the morning. You fit so comfortably on my chest. I know firsthand now how quickly these moments go, so I take an extra deep inhale of gratitude when your face is soundly asleep next to mine. Your smile is always close to the surface, ready to cheese at a moment’s notice.

Your sister loves you so much, sometimes a little too much. You already think she’s the funniest one and someday, she will be the keeper of your deepest secrets and wildest dreams.

There are a few things you will come to know about us, your forever family. Like how Sunday mornings are for banana pancakes. And that we don’t sit still for very long. Or how much we love road trips and family adventure days. And that around here, the trash man is a superhero. We will grow together and you will teach us new things about who we are and the capacity of our hearts.

We are so happy you joined our family. You will always belong here. We’re far from perfect, but you are the perfect fit. 

Xoxo
Your mama

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In & Out of Mom Mode

As I dive deeper into motherhood, I feel like I’m growing further and further away from my carefree, 20-something former self. Ryan just kindly informed me that we are closer to Maisley’s first day of high school than to our first day of high school. He loves saying shit like that.

My favorite little sister** is getting married in less than a month to a guy who’s had her heart since day one. We celebrated her, and their upcoming “I do’s” with one last olé in Santa Barbara a couple weekends ago.

Going to a bachelorette party as a fresh mother of two felt like worlds colliding. Diapers, breastfeeding and “please don’t climb on the counter” became girl-talk, cocktails and pin the smooch on the penis. It was a blissful, refreshing, 48-hours of fun. But I felt like I was a little rusty on remembering how to live freely, let go and not worry about the clock or how many times I refilled my red cup. I kept picking up small items from the floor and moving scissors away from the edge of the counter.

It’s hard to jump in and out of lives and old selves and new selves. Like bags of breastmilk sitting next to bottles of tequila in the freezer. Or pumping while sitting at a lingerie party (opposite ends of the sexy spectrum).

Each child has rocked my existence in a new way. With Maisley it felt like an identity crisis. With Coura it feels more like a new opportunity for self discovery.

As mothers, we tend to get caught up in mom mode – wearing mom jeans, talking in a mom voice and doing other mom things; all the while forgetting about our other identities. Sometimes it takes a bachelorette party to remind us that we are also the girl who likes to let loose (or even just the girl who showers and has normal conversations with other humans).

I hope that as my girls grow up, I continue to foster all sides of myself so that they can clearly see: “I’m not like a regular mom, I’m a cool mom”.

** Just making sure you are both reading this