Over the last few days I’ve been remembering the last 10 months of Lincoln’s life. It surprised me that he was this close to turning one. And the fact that I was surprised, surprised me because I’ve spent the better part of the last 10 months wishing away the days until he wasn’t a baby anymore and we could move on with our lives.
Somehow, with your first baby, you recognize that it is a lot of work…this growing of tiny humans. But then you have your second baby (on the heels of your first, oops) & you are suddenly filled with the knowledge of ALL THE THINGS YOU HAVE TO DO OVER AGAIN. Like sleep train, wipe up spit-up, sleep train, wait for them to sit up on their own, sleep train, then wait for them to start crawling, sleep train, then wait for them to start walking, cut the first God-forsaken tooth that feels like will be the death of you & the baby, start solid foods, and so the list continues.
With Gibs, all of these things were SO exciting that I didn’t realize how much work I was actually putting into the kid…it just felt like this blissful fun. Take two…holy cow…ALL THE THINGS & a toddler? So, I white-knuckled it. I cried. A. LOT. I yelled at my husband or silently seethed that he got to escape the circus everyday & wear clothes that didn’t stink of spit-up & dried applesauce. I put my head down and moved from one thing to the next thing, doing and being and loving (and if we’re being honest here sometimes resenting the doing and being and loving), then starting all over again the next day.
But then, as the months passed, Linc started feeling more like part of the family, I started relaxing, Gibs started talking every second of every day, and miraculously I looked up and realized this life…this life with two tiny humans wasn’t half bad.
As I’ve had a graciously opened door out of my pity-party, I’m realizing that I almost missed it.
While I had my head down, taking one step after another, my baby was taking one step after another too.
This precious time when he only has eyes for his momma, when everything makes him smile, when he smells like sleep & heaven all rolled into one, when he can’t figure out how to crawl so he pushes himself backward all over the house.
So I’m making a point to hold him a little longer, inhale him a little deeper, work for a giggle a little harder, and squeeze his rolls a little more often. I will hold loosely to the middle of the night wake-ups, the grumpy days, and the huge mess he makes when he eats. These things are just part of the journey, they won’t last forever (thank God) and I can enjoy him more when I expect from him less.