Walking along the trails in the park your little body fights against mine, pushing your feet and hands with all their might to break free, nine pounds of determination. You tilt your head back and look up, wide-blue eyes taking in the world. You’re so alert these days, it seems like only a few weeks ago you had no awareness of the world and now all you want to do is take it all in. You spend your mornings watching the light form patterns on the bedroom blinds, they captivate you and I wonder what it is you’re seeing. Right now though you see me, and the trail, and the sun. You wince in the bright mid-day December sun and settle deeper into your carrier, allowing the motion of my steps to finally lull you to sleep. You’re two months old, today darling. It feels like you were born yesterday, but also that you’ve been with us an eternity. We didn’t know what to expect, but you’ve surprised us anyway. You’re a spitfire to be sure. You awoke one day to realize the world was there, and since you’ve been enthralled with it. You don’t like sleep, after all, there’s so much to look at. At least when the night comes you drift off. But a sleepy, cuddly baby you are not. I hope these hikes and time in nature imprint on you in some way. That you’ll grow up to love nature, it is your birthright, our little California girl. One day, I’ll hold your hand as we amble along the same path, but for now, I cherish holding you against me, listening to the soft hum of your sleeping breath. I know this time is fleeting. And for all of the difficulty of the newborn period, I know I will miss this dearly when you’re too big for my arms to carry.

I’m watching a father and his son who is jumping from boulder to boulder; he must be about four years old. His Dad cheers him on and then they set off together in a slow jog. One day that will be you and I. In the not too distant future, I’ll be chasing you around as you dart off. Perhaps, sooner than I’m prepared for. I have the feeling you’re going to be strong and stubborn, like your parents, that you might fight us at every step. And that’s okay. We’ll be here for you. I have many dreams for you, little one, but I hope you grow up with grit. That you take on the world with confidence, and that you fight for what you believe in. I hope that you are kind, and strong and know your worth.

Of course, I can’t know who you’ll be. And maybe I’ve got it all wrong. But its hard not to day dream out here, imagining your future, our future together. There’s so much I’m excited for. So much I want to show you. But I’m trying to stay present here with you. It’s hard sometimes, especially when it’s 4pm and you’re exhausted and fighting sleep again. And you’re upset, and there’s so little I can do to help you. And all both of us want is for you to sleep, but neither of us know how to accomplish that. Eventually, you’ll give in, and I’ll do all I can to not spend all my free time staring at your perfect sleeping face, forgetting the previous hours in an instant. You’ll wake up eventually and greet me with smiles and coos and I can’t imagine anything better in this world.

These past two months have been an adjustment. Our lives were turned upside down the day you joined us. But these days where I feel like we’re in this vortex of newborn life aren’t forever, I’ll forget the bad, and cherish the good. I’m already beginning to. Everyone assures us you’re actually a great baby, you don’t scream all day, you sleep well at night, you are in general, calm and alert. I guess it’s all relative, we had no idea what to expect. Neither of us have spent time with babies really, so you’ll have to forgive our naivety. We’re all just trying to figure this out together. I’m sorry for all the little ways we let you down, you’ll discover one day your parents are imperfect people too. But I hope the good we do for you is infinitely more memorable. We’re doing the best we can for you, we always will.

Time has never moved this slowly, or maybe it did when I was young too. These past two months have been long. Each day brings with it something new. You’ve changed such an incredible amount in these last nine weeks. I love watching you grow and discover the world around you. And I’m so excited to watch you grown into yourself. To meet the little person you’ll become. I hope this is the beginning of a great life-long relationship. Family is everything, little one, and I hope you grow up feeling the same. But for now you’re calling me, so I’d better go. Cheers to the first two months of life, Wren! We’re so happy we get to call you our daughter.