One month. You are one month old. It has gone by so quickly, the blink of an eye. It’s all a bit of a blur and I’m not sure what has happened in the past month. At the same time, it’s hard to remember what life was like without you. You belong here, with us, and your presence is so natural. You made us a family.
You’re noisy. We’re constantly giggling at the various sounds you make. You grunt and wail and snort and cry and sneeze. I can’t wait to hear you laugh. Your dad was making funny noises for you the other night, and I would swear that you wanted to smile at him. Soon enough.
You’re the best little snuggler. You love nothing more than to be snuggled close to me or your dad – except maybe eating. You like that too. You make really great faces and I could just sit and watch them all day long.
You have so much hair. I got you some new bows in lots of different colors. We wash your hair almost every day, but thankfully you seem to enjoy the experience. You get calm and quiet and close your eyes like you’re getting a spa treatment. You like bath time, but not getting out of the tub. Your dad always tells me my showers are ridiculously long, so I can understand that.
I can’t believe how much I love you. People told me that, but it’s hard to understand until you experience it for yourself. It scares me a little. The enormity of it. It feels raw and vulnerable and huge and engulfing. It’s a part of me that didn’t exist before you. I miss you when you’re asleep.
I thought I was prepared for having a newborn. I wasn’t. I don’t know if there’s anything that can really prepare you for it. It’s really different being the one that is ultimately responsible for the well-being of a very small human. You’re vulnerable and utterly dependent and have so many needs. It’s both the hardest thing and most life-giving thing I’ve ever done to meet them. I delight in caring for you, even in my sleep-deprived state. It requires me to die to myself over and over again, and I know this is just the beginning of this journey called motherhood. I never knew before how much life is to be found in that kind of death.
I’m trying to soak in every moment. I know so soon I will look at you and wonder what happened to my squishy, floppy baby. You’re changing and growing every day and I don’t want to miss or wish away a second of it. Happy one month of life, little one.