I was planning on writing a quick one-week update on Corban’s and our lives, but realized that the letter I wrote him today sums most of it up. This is the third letter I’ve written him since I found out I was pregnant, but the first in which I got to use his name! I’m not sure how often I plan to write these letters, but probably just whenever I feel the need to capture a moment in our lives. And I fully realize they’re more for me than for him.
Anyway, here’s a glimpse at our first week.
Today, you’re one week old! You really surprised us by making your debut 3 1/2 weeks earlier than your due date.
When I went into labor – right at the end of a long day of work, just before I was about to head to the newsroom Christmas party – I was so scared that we weren’t prepared or you weren’t developed enough. On the drive home, I prayed that you would be healthy and ready to face the world. Lists of things I had wanted to get done before your arrival whirled around in my head. I couldn’t believe it was finally time to meet you.
And now that you’re here, it seems like you came right on time. I know God chose your birthday long before you were even a thought in our minds, and He prepared us well for that day.
You are a tiny peanut, though. 6 pounds 8 ounces at birth, and down to 5 pounds 10 ounces four days later. Now you’re back up to 6 pounds and looking good, Dr. Jeruc says. Right now you’re sleeping on a billi bed, or a light therapy bed to help combat jaundice. I call you my little glow worm. Your dad was so concerned when we first found out you had jaundice. I’ll never forget the urgency in his voice when he confessed, “It makes me so worried.” We’ve been to the doctor every day this week, and you’re recovering well. We’re hoping that tomorrow you can stop the light therapy and we can cuddle you as long as we want without worry. That’s all we really want to do to you right now – snuggle you close and kiss your sweet little head.
On our way out the door to the hospital on the night you were born, I stopped and looked at Daddy and told him the next time we’d be here we would probably have a baby with us. He was still in denial that this was really happening. On the drive there, we debated, for the final time, names for you. If you had been a girl, it would have been a little more difficult, since we were still discussing girl middle names even in the hospital room. Daddy called your Uncle James and asked if it was OK if we used his name for your middle name. He, of course, said yes. We love your name, Corban, and its meaning – a gift from God dedicated to or sacrificed for God. It comes from the Hebrew word Korban, which is an offering.
Your first weekend in the world was probably the happiest of my life. We spent almost two days in the hospital, learning all about how to care for you, resting, telling friends and family about you and posting lots of pictures. Oh, and snuggling your tiny body close to us whenever we had the chance. Nana D, Papa, Aunt Lauren and Uncle Kevin came to visit on your first day in the world, and we had a champagne toast to your birth. Everyone was fighting over who got to hold you next.
When we posted pictures of you on Facebook, we were flooded with comments, messages and posts. It was overwhelming and wonderful to have so much love and support. There are so many people out there who already love you, Corban.
When we came home from the hospital (I cried the whole way home, out of pure joy and sentimentality that our life together was truly beginning), we were greeted also by your other grandparents, and a “Welcome home, Corban!” sign that I still have hanging on the front door. Our families were so helpful in getting the house ready, cooking food and making sure we had everything we needed for you.
Nana D stayed with us this week and was more helpful than I ever could have imagined. You gave us some rough nights at first, crying and fussing until the early morning and waking up to eat even just after you’d eaten. I spent one night sleeping on the floor next to you in your billi bed and another awake until almost 5 a.m. Last night you were an angel though, and today I feel rested for the first time since your birth. I’m hoping things will continue this way, but I’m sure we have many more rough nights ahead, and you’re worth every one of them.
Tonight we gave you your first bath at home. You didn’t exactly enjoy it, and you cried through most of it. After we wrapped you in a little duck hooded blanket, though, you became perfectly content. You sat in my arms with your little fist on your cheek, and your deep blue eyes looked around in wonder.
Because of the light therapy, you live mostly in your diaper and nothing more. I love carrying your around curled up in the fetal position on my chest. It’s hard to believe that just a week ago you were like that inside of me.
You make the most adorable faces, raising or furrowing your eyebrows, smacking your lips when you’re hungry and just looking around in awe of the world you’ve been thrust into. You have long, skinny legs, arms, hands and feet, and you sometimes throw your arms into the air when I lay you down on your back.
You like to have your hands close to your face at all times, and you’re still figuring out how to suck your thumb. Today at the doctor’s office, you found your thumb, but had the rest of your hand covering your face with your fingers in your eyes.
You’ve turned our world upside down, Corban James. We are amazed at God’s handiwork and praise and thank him for blessing us so richly. I want to enjoy every stage of your life, and this snuggly newborn phase is so easy to enjoy – I just have to look at you and my heart swells.