Judah’s first days here with us seem like so long ago. I miss those days. Already his newness is wearing off and he seems so mature, so old. Even though he is just shy of a month old, it feels like my newborn is gone and in his place is this totally alert and aware baby.
So much has changed already since those first few days. He is no longer limp and perfectly squishy, he is strong and squirmy (but still perfectly squishy in every way). My belly is flat again and I can’t even remember what it felt like to be pregnant- I can’t remember anything before him anyway. The memory of what it felt like to have him inside of me feels so blurry, all I know now is his heaviness in my arms. His sweet smell, like spun sugar, has only gotten sweeter by the day. The intensity and incredible pain of childbirth is a distant memory and I am already craving my next home birth. The achiness and incredible soreness of that first week has been replaced by a new strength that I’ve never known before. I remember hearing his cry in the middle of the night, lifting myself up in bed was excruciating and every muscle in my body screamed for me to stop. But all I could think of was reaching him, through the pain, like holding him would make it all stop. Thinking back to those first days feels like I’m looking at them through a foggy lense. Those days were amazing, but every day gets better and better.
Those magical, soul-soaring, unbelievably hard, unbelievably joyful first days.
But can somebody tell my baby to stop growing already?