Crazy On You

Dear Chloe,

It has been a much easier week. I'm not having the baby blues anymore so I am pulling out of the waah-waahing contest, you win. My nipples have adjusted to the daily suckage so I don't feel like you have jaws of steel when you latch on. I can carefully wipe with toliet paper after I use the restroom and it takes me less than 60 seconds to get up and sit down. What more could a new mom ask for?

It's been an easy adjustment because you really are a good baby. The first week was hard because your Dad was still sore from his car accident, then he had to run all the errands and pay the bills because we'd been in the hospital for several days. I felt really scared and alone when he had to go back to work. We did fine though and most of our hours are spent on the futon doing this:


It can be hard because I'm breastfeeding. Some days, I feel lucky to get a shower. Like on this day, your Dad took this picture before I could even brush my hair after my shower. Life is lived in segments now. Shower, tend to you, lotion my body, tend to you, brush my teeth, tend to you, brush my hair, tend to you. If I attempt to fix dinner, it's prepared the same way.


Your Dad was feeling a little left out since I'm your personal pacifier. Dad felt like he couldn't comfort you when you were crying and hungry. He's great about changing your diaper. He'll change you and five minutes later you blow it up again. He doesn't complain, he just carries you back into the nursery for another round. We've found that Dad's your dose Tylenol PM. After I feed you, he'll burp you and you'll pass out in his arms. Every night, you and your Dad will fall asleep together with his arm protectively wrapped around you. I'll wake you and feed you again before we go to bed and you're always toasty because you were wrapped up in his arms. I love your Dad even more when I watch you two sleep.




We finally left the house last night and went to my Dad's for dinner. We left around 8:30pm and it was dark driving out of the country club compound. We were only going about 15mph when I remembered I needed to warn your Dad about the speed bumps ahead. I couldn't get the words out fast enough and before I knew it, it felt like we were popping wheelies over the speed bumps. I heard you in the back after we jumped the bump let out a "huuuuhh" like someone pushed you off the swing set. That was the only peep you made the entire way home. Your Dad and I laughed loudly and that didn't even cause you to stir.

When we got off the highway, your Dad abruptly pulled over. I thought he'd missed the shortcut my dad had told him about to take home. Then, I saw a car whip around us and your Dad yelled, "HEY!". I looked over at him and he was furious. "That car was tailgating too close, they could have hit us with Chloe in the car!" We get back on the road and the car that was tailgating pulls over at the turn we make to go home. Your Dad pulls up next to them. Inside, were five teenage punks probably drunk or high. Your Dad rolls down the window and tells them they were driving irresponsibly, "There is a newborn baby in this car!" The thugs in the back seat tell us to f*ck off and start to exit the car. I tell Jerry to "Go, GO!". Chloe, your Dad loves you so much, he'd take on a posse of teenage punks for you.

The first thought that ran through my mind was, "what if these jerks have a gun"? The second thought was, "I feel so old". We are now parents lecturing children on their driving abilities. Then, I thought about how protective your Dad is when it comes to you. I thought how he'll probably go bonkers when you start dating. I'll need to rob the pharmacy for Valium. The song, "Crazy On You" was running through my head.


I don't blame Dad for being so defensive about driving. He was in a horrible accident a week before you were born. It's a miracle he was able to walk away from the scene. He'd just dropped me off at work. If I ever believed in a higher power, it was the day of the accident. If I'd been in the car, pregnant with you, I have no doubt we wouldn't have survived. I don't know how I'd spiritually survive if your Dad was critically injured right before your birth. Someone was looking out for us.


You've changed my life, Chloe. I now know the meaning of selfless, you come first. I no longer shop on Ebay for myself. The last two days, I've been searching for an Easter outfit for you. I can't wait to dye eggs, fill baskets, hide candy and dress you up every Easter. Oh, the adventures and fun we will have, my little fuzzy bunny.