three weeks and six days

On June 16 at 6:37 pm the waiting ended. After a much more painful than I expected, but short labor, Eva Marie Tomassini came into the world. It was worth every scream, pain, contraction, morning sickness vomit, and sleepless night of the last nine months. She is beautiful- even if I am partial in being her mother I'll say it anyway. More importantly, she is healthy. Max and I are still tripping on the fact that the two of us did something so amazing and beautiful and our love for her grows everyday.

On Friday, Eva will be a month old. Her month in her new world has been eventful. Grandma and Grandpa came from California to stay with us and we all came down with a terrible stomach flu on Eva's one week birthday (except for Eva, thankfully), we celebrated Eva's cousin Tamara's 18th birthday and we are now having our first visit from one of Eva's uncles: Brian. Aside from the big events, it is the small things that amaze me still more. Eva's little noises, her cuter-than-you-can imagine yawns, and her heart-stopping cries from hunger, tummyaches, and dirty diapers. She is growing before my eyes and has already grown out of her newborn clothes. I felt a twinge of sadness as I snapped the buttons last week on a t-shirt that had already gotten tight on the long and slender body of the little alien that now sleeps beside my bed every night. This may only be the beginning of her growing up and becoming independent of her mommy and papa' but I can't wait for all of the days in between in which she'll amaze us without end.

Rome is hot in the summer, especially this summer. Our pediatrician warned us against letting the baby sweat. I have never put the question to myself before, 'what is the physiological meaning of a baby sweating?' but apparently it is bad news. Thank god for air conditioning. Brian and I decided to take Eva on an adventure yesterday morning- on the bus into town for lunch. I over packed Eva's bag with diapers and bottles and toys and blankets, we put her in the carriage, attached the umbrella I had bought the day before to shield from the sun and we were off. But by the time we got near the bus stop 15 minutes later all three of us required a second shower of the day from the sweat that was soaking through our clothes. I called our trek off to avoid the 'systemic collapse' of my daughter (as the pediatrician put it) and decided it was best to take Brian and Eva in the air-conditioned car- it was 90 degrees at 11 am- in to the city. We didn't end up going to lunch for fear of more sweating. I dropped Brian off for some Roman site-seeing and took Eva straight home. This was our first trip alone in the car together and I was scared (this was marginally lower on the fear scale than making her suffer in the heat). What if she chokes? What if she gets sunburned from the sun beating in to the car? What if she finds a way to strangle herself on the straps of the carseat? I had to will myself just to keep driving- telling myself it was better to just to keep going and get home asap.

The harrowing 20 minute journey through the gauntlet of Roman traffic, tight windy roads, and crazy motorini drivers finally ended and we go home safe and sound. I amazed myself with all the things I could carry up to the house in one trip with only two arms, in addition to Eva, and still succeed in opening the front door. Once in the house, I cranked up the AC fed the alien and we both passed out. The day had ended and it was only 1pm.