isabel marina

January 18, 2006

Isa was born first. When they pulled her out of my belly (don't ask) and we first heard her cry, my heart exploded from my numb and tired body. While the nurse brought her over for me to see her, Dr. Polon tugged Manu out. Entranced by the beauty of our baby girl, it took us a minute to realize that we didn't hear him cry. A moment of terror set in as the nurses scuttled around and drained the mucus from his lungs. Our midwife conferred with them and reported back that everything was okay, he just needed some drainage. A few minutes later, he cried out in protest and then joined his sister on the scale.

While Isa slept and slept, Manu lifted his head and looked around the hospital room. In those weeks before the colic set in, he inspected the world around him with the furrowed brow of a wise old man. His gross motor skills from day one were far ahead of the curve.

Meanwhile, Isa nursed, slept, and pooped. She made no effort to hold her head up or keep her eyes open beyond the absolutely necessary. By the time they were 2 months old, Jeremy and I secretly wondered if there was something wrong with her. Not only was she impossible to excite, it was difficult to take a good picture of her compared to the hundreds we already had of her photogenic brother. My poor homegirl just wasn't that cute. Sometimes she looked like a monkey with her puffy eyes and puckered mouth. Eventually, our families even started to wonder if she was okay. Even our friends made comments about her lack of eye contact and alertness. Meanwhile, my midwife and every doctor we asked said she was totally fine and that I shouldn't compare her to her brother. But the difference between them was striking, and we were starting to prepare for the possibility of caring for a special needs child.

Then, suddenly, she started to smile. And then she laughed. And then she played with rattles and teething rings and my hair and my earrings... And slowly our fears diminished as our daughter settled into the world outside the womb.

Today, at almost 15 months, she's wise beyond her years. Her vocabulary consists of at least 25 words, and her gross motor skills, though still behind her brother, are on the lazy end of the spectrum but normal.

At bedtime, when we exchange kisses and I love yous, she says "uh ya yoo" back and presses her face into mine. And then the other night she woke up crying at 5am. I waited a few minutes to see if she'd go back to sleep before giving up and bringing her into bed. I nursed her for like 10 minutes as she played with her feet and tugged at my hair. Tired and frustrated, I said, "it's night night, Isa. Go night night!" and then I rolled over and away from her. She sat up and climbed over me, cupped my face in her hands and pressed her nose to mine. I gave her a kiss and said, "Night Night, Isa. Go night night". And then she patted my head and said, "nigh nigh nigh, mama. nigh nigh nigh", climbed back over me, and went to sleep. As my heart exploded from my chest once again, I knew that I would never forget that.