At last. I have at last begun Sasha's blog - the baby book of the 21st century. Many months of avoidance and fear of my "internal editor" have passed. I can almost hear the trumpets blasting in joyous reverie as I type.

At times I've pictured Sasha years from now sitting down in her therapist's office.

Therapist: What is blocking you from really accepting your mother into your life?

Sasha: Well, she nicknamed me Boo, for starters. That was fun. Boobie. Booty. Sometimes just plain old Boobs Hilwig.

Therapist: Kids can be cruel. Anything else?

Sasha: I guess what really stings the most...? I'm sorry, can I have a Kleenex? Anyway, what hurts the most is she didn't start my blog until I was six months old. (Sasha breaks into sobs)

Therapist: It's all very clear now. I'm so sorry.

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True, not every six month old has his or her own blog, lovingly crafted by one or both parents. I know it's enough that I manage to feed, bathe, entertain, and simply love my baby. Still, I've felt a bit of a slacker in the Recording of Sasha's Life department. I hope I can avoid further procrastination and make up for that now.

The beginning:


Sasha Evelyn Hilwig. Born on 11:05pm on January 14th, 2007. You were a healthy 7lb 11oz and 20 inches. When we opened the curtains in our hospital room the morning after you were born, the air was misty with ice crystals. It was a whole new beautiful brilliant world.




A few months passed.

My big blue-eyed Boo. We've survived the first few months. Sleepless nights. Breastfeeding. Not breastfeeding. Guilt, oy vey. You had baby acne on every square inch of your otherwise peaches and cream complexion. We had visitors: Colleen (more than a visitor, an angel who got us through some rough nights), your nonna Connie, your saba Mike, 2 aunts (Kiela and Yael), and one uncle (David; we're still waiting for you to meet Uncle Zach) Mariah who cleaned the kitchen and earned a place in Heaven. The days dragged and then they flew. We would make our way out of the house, you and I, at first tentatively, uncertain. By April, we were confident, ready for summer, off on our first trip together to the Breitenbush Hot Springs with Colleen and Mariah. We blessed you under the stars and moon while you gazed up at the trees, dark and stretching toward the night sky. My love for you felt at times too big for my heart.


And now.

Here we are. You will be six months old next weekend. Six months. An age that once felt like eons away. It's all gone by so quickly. Too quickly. And then, not quickly enough. Now is the best time. To hear you crack up at the funny faces, noises, and dances your father and I gladly put on for your amusement. To watch you gaze into a face and capture that person's heart with the wise, knowing light in your eyes. To kiss your belly, your toes, your knees, your cheeks, your soft head every chance I get. I love these days.

Yes, here we are. I cannot contain all my love for you in my wholly inadequate heart. There it goes, leaking across the keyboard, drifting up towards the corners of the room and then, caught by the breeze of the ceiling fan whirring above, it's pushed gently out the open window into the dark night.

I'll be funny later, I promise. I'm going to go upstairs now and curl up around you and go to sleep. Good night, my Boo. Sweet Sasha.