February 6, 2007
By Heather Moret
Day turns into night and into day again with very little variation and suddenly whole weeks disappear. Our littlest one is four weeks old now and while he seems very much the same to me as when he first arrived, I know that subtle changes are occurring. He is growing in alertness, strength and size just as surely as baby J did two years before him. Already he is growing out of his clothing, and the fluffy blue pom-pom hat his great-grandmother sent him to wear home from the hospital no longer fits. I sigh when I realize this, not for ardent love of the hat but because I know how quickly his babyhood will recede into toddlerhood and beyond. I’ve loved watching baby J grow into a hilarious two-year-old, but feel bittersweet this second time around as I hold our second son knowing all too well how fleeting the baby days really are.
My soft jello-belly and cavernous belly button are the most visible signs of the transformation my body so recently endured, but my foggy mind is the more reliable indicator that there are six weeks in the post-partum period for good reason. I am tired. Tired enough to have not been able to remember which side I part my hair on when I went for a haircut last week. Tired enough to forget what I did yesterday. I know this business of nursing around the clock will someday come to an end and that baby’s tears will lessen with time as he grows and I grow to know him better, but sometimes it’s hard to keep that in mind.
I’m grateful beyond words to have the chance to be the mother of these boys and in the end it’s that realization coupled with lots of help from family and friends that is getting us through the hours that are long and makes those that are short sweeter still.
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